Effy the Exchange Student
by Emotionally Fourteen
Summary: Effy does a post grad year at the only place that will take her. Helps Rachel get what she wants. Faberry and other female pairings
1. Chapter 1

"It is a bit troubling to think that the American public education system oftentimes fails students, mostly those with sub par socio-economic climates, but then you'll find that William McKinley has a decent curriculum, though often neglects the Arts…"

This bird has been talking all morning about bollocks and I don't know if she has noticed I haven't listened to a Goddamn word. It's sort of nice, her constant chattering. It reminds me of Panda. Though Panda is more bubbly and at least talks about boys once and a while. This one just patters on about singing. What I do like about her is she tweaked to stop asking me questions. She knows I'm doing a PG year because of my crap grades and because Anthea was worried about another depressive episode. She doesn't know that I feel empty because Freds is dead and gone and that I may or may not harbor some more than friendly feelings for a certain female friend back home. Of course that's never going to happen. I stop outside the building for a fag and Rachel looks at me like I've grown another head.

"You smoke! You can't smoke here! This isn't Europe!"

"They don't allow smoking in the States?"

"Of course they do. You can't at school!" Rachel said. She looks like she might burst. It'd be fun to see if her entrails are also argyle. I give her a small smirk.

"I'm sure they can make an exception. Being my first day and all that."

"I would think you'd want to make a good impression. As you are staying with my family and I, you reflect on me." Rachel's parents were sweet, but they're being men didn't phase me like she thought it would. Rachel's very proud of them, but I could tell she was worried I might flip. Shit like that doesn't bother me. She was lucky, her parents were still together and not yelling all the time like mine had done. I continue to smoke and Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Fine. Get cancer in a few years. Hopefully by then chemotherapy will become less expensive."

"Healthcare's free across the pond, luv." She crosses her arms and I take a long drag. Students mill in and I can feel them stare at me. Nothing new. Two birds with linked pinkies stop in front of us. The vicious one starts in.

"Who's this Berry?" I eye her cautiously and the blonde one looks me up and down. Ah. Lesbians. So this place isn't so boring.

"This is Effy Stonem. She's visiting our fair school for the next year and it would behoove all of us to give her a good impression of the U.S. as our world reputation has been tarnished thanks to the Bush administration and our tireless wars." I should remind Rachel that we Brits helped out with those tireless wars, but I nod my head in the tan one's direction. The tan one nods back.

"She's cute. What's she doing with you?" The tan one says. The blonde looks perpetually confused.

"My dads wanted to ensure that I expose myself to different cultures and a grander world view even though at this juncture in time I am stuck in Ohio."

"So they bought you a friend? That's a new low for you Berry." The tan one grins and something about it makes me want to put her in her place.

"How long have you two been shagging?" I ask and the tan one goes red.

"Is shagging sex? Santana and I do that a lot."

"Britney!" Santana and Britney. Dumb and Dumber. Got it. I stomp out my fag and lean in close to the blonde one.

"Yes. Shagging is sex. Fancy a go sometime?" I give her a tiny peck on the lips and the tan one pushes me away. I grin and take Rachel's arm.

"Do show me around Rachel. The locals here are fascinating." Rachel just nods dumbly, her mouth open as I guide her into the building and down the hallways.

When we reach her locker, Rachel's face is met with an icy juice. The culprit is some Neanderthal in a sports jacket and everyone around us is laughing. Rachel looks fucking trashed, but kind of resigned like she's bloody used to it. I stroke my finger down her cheek, slowly and give it a taste.

"Cherry. Not bad."

"Do you have to make everything pseudo sexual!" Rachel barks and I give her a small smile. That's when I see her, staring at Rachel. She's the all American girl and she's looking at Rachel the way I used to look at Freddy. She looks at Rachel like she wishes she were me, licking Rachel's face. I slide in closer to Rachel and whisper while I look at the mystery girl. She is fuming.

"You have an admirer then. Don't turn around." Rachel stiffens and whispers harshly in my ear.

"Who? Please don't say Jacob Ben Israel."

"It's a Barbie doll. A very angry looking Barbie doll." Rachel stays close to me.

"It can't be. She barely acknowledges my presence." Huh. That's interesting. I step away from Rachel and grab her arm, pulling me toward the mystery girl.

"Soz to trouble you. Where's the toilet? Rachel's had a bit of a fruit fight." I size up the girl and she's gorgeous, empty and definitely repressed. It's in the way she stands, rigid, like a fucking strap on cock. The girl looks at Rachel and her gaze changes, but she still takes Rachel in with a soft gaze.

"Are you okay?" The girl asks and Rachel looks gobsmacked.

"Yes, Quinn. Thank you." So that's the mystery girl's name. Precious. The two of them just stand there. It's nice to know that there is something that will shut Rachel up.

"You're Quinn? Well Rachel speaks very highly of you." Might as well stir the pot while here. Rachel gives me a sideway glance and I can tell Quinn looks a little surprised.

"She does?"

"Yeah. She does." I smirk and link on to Rachel's arm. "Better get our girl cleaned up. Don't want to be late for classes, Heaven forbid." I drag Rachel away and finally her voice comes back.

"I've never even mentioned Quinn to you!"

"No, but she'll be wondering what you did say." I push Rachel into the loo and get her washed up while I smoke another fag. She moans that her outfit will smell like smoke. I tell her to piss off. She's my favorite one here so far.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm required to see the school counselor at least twice a week given my previous mental break down. I don't think this one is going to be able to handle me. She puts hand sanitizer on her like she's bloody Lady Macbeth.

"Well Elizabeth, hello!."

"Effy."

"Effy, okay. That's pretty. My name is Ms. Pilsbury."

"Yes it says that on your placard."

"Yes. So it does." She adjusts the placard just so and takes a minute to realign it again. She reminds me of JJ. "I look forward to talking with you. It should be a fun year for you. Have you made some friends?"

"No."

"I'm sure you will. Rachel's been showing you around?"

"Yeah. A bit intense, that one."

"Yes, Rachel is a little high strung." Takes one to know one. Everything in this room looks like its been sterilized four times already this morning. Bet she's a virgin.

"So Effy I understand you were um…well you had uh-"

"I was in a crazy hospital."

"Um well, I don't think that's the politically correct term,"

"I had a manic depressive bout. My doctor became obsessed with me and murdered my boyfriend. Is that what you're referring to?" She gets quiet and obviously she isn't prepared for this. She isn't prepared for me. No one's ever prepared for me.

"That can be a lot. For anyone, let alone a seventeen year old girl." I look behind her at the stupid pamphlets. Bulimia and You, So You Can't Stop Masturbating, and I have no idea how I ended up here. "I know you are mandated to come here. I know I'm probably not your first choice for having a heart to heart. But you're doing me a favor really I don't get too many visitors during office hours." I'm quiet and stare at another pamphlet My Mom's Bipolar and She Won't Stop Yelling.

"You can't fix me. Everyone that's tried has been hurt."

"I don't want to fix you. Honestly I can't even fix myself. But I can listen. Whenever you feel like talking."

"I don't really talk."

"Well we have a year. Maybe things will change." She gives me a smile and she maybe a bit nutty, but she's nice.

When I leave Emma's office I'm approached by a try hard with a Mohawk. He's a watered down, if beefed up version of Cook. I had rumbles with the Cookie Monster, and this chap doesn't even come close.

"Hey hotness. I'm Puckasaurus sex. Haven't seen you around before." I continue to walk past him and obviously that's just not done around here as the other girls watch him. He follows behind me like a lap dog. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I can show you a good time. Maybe after school we can get to know each other better." I continue to walk and he stops following me. It's nice to know men are the same everywhere.

I enter French class and I sit next to a chic guy who I'm sure won't be asking for any sexual favors.

"Shirt dress. You totally carry it." He says. I give him a wink and he smiles. "I'm Kurt."

"Effy."

"Oh my God you're British! We're totally going shopping."

He's not so bad. We speak in French to one another about the dip shits in our class. When class is over I ask him where I can score some drugs and he looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Though I could understand why you would want to take some, since we're in Lima, I don't partake in such recreational activities. Puck would probably know." Kurt says.

"Ta. Well, there's always vodka in someone's cabinet isn't there."

"Not Rachel's." He grins. He's right, there isn't any booze in the Berry household. Maybe Windex if I mix it with something will fuck me up, but I am sort of tired of being off the rails all the time. Since Freds died, I got sick again, put back in treatment. I didn't talk to anyone for a week and a half until she started showing up. She knew just what to say at the right time and it's weird but we became friends. Sometimes I would look at her and want to fight, dig my claws in her skin just because she was there. Other times I wanted to crawl into her arms and cry Freddy's name over and over. Eventually, I wanted to rip her clothes off and be consumed with her. Stranger things have happened. I don't love her, love is just a sick joke people play on each other. But I'll always be grateful for her attention. Maybe a little too grateful.

"So who's your boyfriend then?" I ask Kurt and he rolls his eyes.

'No one in this cow town high school has their rainbow flag up except for me."

"I don't know about that." I remark as I see Quinn grabbing books out of her locker. Kurt matches my gaze and raises an eyebrow.

"But that's Quinn Fabray." He said.

"Yes."

"Totally conservative, All American, was once pregnant Quinn Fabray."

"She's got a crush." I said.

"Who? Tell me!" I won't disclose much else, because it wouldn't be fair to Rachel.

"You'll see." I say as I slink off towards Quinn. I watch her for a moment before she slams her locker.

"Can I help you?" Quinn says and its full of venom. Delicious.

"How long have you fancied Rachel then?" I ask. She turns to me and pushes me against the lockers. Her eyes are full of rage and I want more. Hit me. Go on.

"Let's make one thing clear, you may have been top dog wherever the hell you come from, but I'm the head bitch around here. Don't mess with the pecking order." She hisses.

"I'm a little turned on, hen." I grin and her face falters. She lets go of me and walks away.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner at the Berry's is a surreal experience. Mostly because it seems as though they enjoy one another. Steve and John always indulge Rachel with her stories, even if they are the most mind numbing dissertations imaginable. She's going on about her singing key club again. I've spelled out 'Kill Me' with my peas. I don't think any of them have noticed.

"How is school going Effy? You like it?" John asks. I can hear Rachel huff, probably because her story is being interrupted.

"Fine. Making all kinds of friends." I say with a smile but Rachel gives me a look. I raise my eyebrow at her and she does the same. Steven and John just look at each other in confusion.

"I'm up for another solo this week." Rachel said.

"That's great honey!" Steven says like she hasn't been up for a solo every week since I've been here. She just cares about everything so much and I can't understand it. Doesn't she get disappointed? As far as I can tell she doesn't have many mates and her social life revolves around her chorus. She's always up at dawn on her damn exercise machine and it wakes me. Every morning. So, I keep her up at night, putting porn audio on too loudly while she's trying to do homework. Porn amuses me. It's so staged, so ridiculous and no one on those tapes is anyone you'd actually want to fuck.

"Do you girls have any plans for this weekend?" John asks and I can tell that he really hopes Rachel has an answer other than homework.

"I should catch up on some homework." Oh she is so predictable. John and Steve give her a small smile but it's mostly because they worry about her. Not in the way people worried about me, like I might try and off myself, but they're concerned and it's sweet.

"Actually Rach and I were going to go out this weekend." I said. The dads look like they are going to bust their collective bollocks. Rachel just gives me a curious look. "There's a birthday party for one of our friends. It's just a few people, maybe a pizza or two. Very civil." I smile sweetly. We definitely will get to borrow the car.

I'm in my room when Rachel barges in. I'm a bit high, and she sprays the room with an aerosol can.

"Are you still smoking marijuana in here?"

"Give the girl a prize."

"I'm getting tired of your use of narcotics. I can't keep covering for your indiscretions."

"Oh your dads know Rachel. They're fairly liberal." I have a suspicion anyway that they know and they've never told me to stop.

"I think I know my father's well enough to know that they would not encourage underage drug use, Elizabeth. Can you just cut it out while at home? Can't you do it under the bleachers with the other ruffians at school?"

"Fine, if you stop calling me Elizabeth." Rachel fans her arms about like a nitwit, as though that's going to make the smell go away. "Do you want some?" I asked. She looks at me in horror.

"No! I do not."

"Pity. You always deprive yourself of fun."

"Drugs aren't fun, Effy. They are an irresponsible pastime that ruins lives, not to mention fuels economic funding for war lords and mobsters in third world countries. Drug mules alone have a –"

"Rachel. Stop. I won't smoke here anymore. I got it." I wish she had a shed in the back. Fucking Freds, I still think about him. She sits down next to me on my bed.

"What's the matter? I know you enjoy your herbal remedy, but you look sad all of a sudden."

"It's nothing." She rolls her eyes because we've done this dance so many times before. She rambles and I shut off.

"Well whatever it was, I hope you talk to Ms. Pilsbury or someone about it. I know I'm not your favorite person, but it's been nice having a house guest. Someone to direct my space videos." My directing her videos consists of me reading The Bell Jar while she asks 'How was That' and I say 'Fabulous'.

"I was thinking of someone. He's gone now. Dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Alright." Finally it's nice and quiet in here.

"Would you like a glass of water?" I don't get her at all.

"No thanks."

"I only ask because when I was younger and had a nightmare my dads would bring me a glass of water. So sometimes when I'm sad I'm thirsty too."

"That's adorably fucked up." I give her a grin.

"You swear too much. It's uncouth."

"Fucking hell, you are right. I will have to work on that." She swats my arm and she really isn't so bad.

"By the way, what party is happening this weekend? Are you up to something? Did you just make something up and are involving me in some drug deal scheme?"

"There's a party. Kurt says all the assholes of the universe will be there. I figure we drink their liquor and smoke their spliff. Or, I will anyway. You can be designated driver, maybe mingle with your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

"The Barbie doll."

"Quinn and I aren't anything. She's awful to me, actually. It's only gotten better recently but she's so moody and bitter. Who could be attracted to someone like that?"

"But you are." Rachel's face falls.

"Have you ever liked someone you knew you shouldn't?" Which time?

"There is this one girl."

"You're bisexual also?"

"All I know is that I'm fucked up. I don't really care about all the labels you yanks are so pre-occupied with." Rachel smirks at my assessment.

"True, I do think our puritanical society is rooted in fear of societal aberrations- however I was merely pointing out that you and I have something in common, which is rare to say the least. I wondered if you would like to expound upon this revealing plot point even though you are never as talkative as I would like you to be. " She talks so much. Doesn't she find it exhausting? I would be kidding if I said I haven't been thinking about "this one girl", but whenever I do I feel like I'm fucking around on Freddy.

He's dead and has been for almost a year, but I swear sometimes I can still taste him. Sometimes I feel like I should have burned his old t-shirts instead of keeping them and smelling them. "The one girl" doesn't confuse me. I don't worry that she's a girl. I've got a vagina, why would another one scare me? The first time she and I fucked, it wasn't soft like she was used to, it was angry, tragic, like we were fucking to feel something again. The second time we fucked we didn't cry into each other as much. The third time I called her name instead of Freddy's. A few times after that, she called my name instead of Naomi's.

"It's complicated." I tell Rachel and she just looks at me with those puppy dog eyes.

"Well I don't think it's fair that I confide in you, that you should know my secrets and I know none of yours." She's such a petulant child sometimes. It would be endearing if she didn't know she was going to win you over.

"My boyfriend died and I fucked a girl to get over it. Only I didn't get over it, she had a girlfriend and I was ruining her life. So here I am in bumfuck sharing a house with a pedophile's wet dream. You?" I light a fag and I'm surprised that Rachel doesn't tell me to stop or bring out the freshener again. She takes my hand. I don't recoil.

"I already know you're tough, Effy. You don't have to try and fool me."

"Fool you with what?"

"That you have feelings. I can tell, especially when you put those bullies at school in their place. You always humor Kurt in his costume choices, even when you look like you could care less. It was also nice of you to kiss Artie in front of Tina to make her jealous. You're a good person Eff, even though you don't think you are." I take a long drag and walk to the window. I crack it open and help fan the smoke out. Rachel smiles.

"Are we going to sing 'We Are Family' now? Because I might purge. " I said.

"Oh I know you don't like singing, or anything associated with joy. No, we'll just talk about me. Okay?" I raise and eyebrow and Rachel goes on for about two hours about Quinn Fabray.


	4. Chapter 4

It isn't long before Rachel clings on to my arm when some louse who has had too much of something loses it on the front lawn. He's waving his shirt over his head, screaming and I remember he's the kid I gave mushrooms to earlier in the week. Some people have all the fun.

"Are you sure this is an appropriate meeting area?" Rachel says as she pinches into my arm. She is a dear. I give her an eyebrow raise and lead her into the noisy, musty house. I tried to convince Kurt to come but he's decided it isn't in his best interest to be harassed and beat up by the maddening crowd. I probably shouldn't have come either from the look of things, but well what else is there to do? Oh yeah, I can do her.

"What are you doing here Scary Spice?" Santana says, already smelling of tequila and stale gum. I notice her compatriot is sat in Artie's lap in the corner, so Santana must be in a foul mood.

"Want to fuck?" I ask and she folds her arms in front, sizing me up.

"Effy! You can't leave me here alone!" Rachel complains and pulls me away from the grumpy cheerleader. Must they wear those uniforms all the time? We venture further into the house until I find the vodka and swig from the bottle. I nick it before anyone else complains. I offer some to Rachel, but as expected she declines in the most polite manner possible. I continue to drink when Finn shows up.

"Hey Rachel. You look really pretty." I could vomit.

"Thank you Finn. But I'm still not getting back together with you." It seems like I've been trapped in this sham of a soap opera for weeks now and I am bored to tears.

"I know Rachel. It's just I miss us together. It felt right, didn't it?" Rachel looks to the ground while the tall boy looms over her. It must have been torture trying to reach him for a kiss, though she's the right size to kiss him elsewhere. I shudder at the thought. He's so, ordinary. I take another swig when I notice Barbie again. She's eyeing the two with anger and by how tight her ponytail is she hasn't been drinking. Don't make me do it for you. Be brave.

"Finn, I really loved you but I don't think I can trust you. There were so many times that you let me down. So many times and I just didn't want to be disappointed anymore. You're a great guy Finn, but you still have some growing up to do. And frankly so do I in some respects." Rachel said.

"But if you let me try again, I know it would be different." This chap just isn't getting it. Come on Barbie. Get your girl.

"Finn, really please don't do this here. I'm already uncomfortable at this party as it is." Rachel said.

"But-"

"Jesus mate she's just not that into you. Can't make it any clearer?" I said loud and clear. I offer him the bottle for a sip but he just stares at me in defeat. I shrug and cart Rachel away in one arm while I carry the bottle in the other. When we pass by Barbie I make sure to give her a hard look.

I push Rachel into the loo and sit her on the toilet while I lay in the tub. She cries for a good while and I have a smoke. After a few sniffles, she wipes her eyes with tissue paper and gives me a silent nod. She's learning to communicate without speaking. It seems as though I'm rubbing off on her. When we exit the bathroom Barbie is waiting for us.

"What were you two doing in there?" Barbie asks and I put my arm around Rachel's waist.

"What you wished to have done." I give her a wink. I tell Rachel I will be over by the kitchen and slide over there, keeping an eye on Rachel as she and her crush blush at my comments. I grab a bag of crisps out of a kid whose passed out hands and snack while I watch the two. There's so much noise, but observing people has been and always will be one of my favorite pastimes. So is lip reading. Rachel looks at Quinn with her doe eyes, warm and helpless like a Disney woodland creature.

_"I'm fine." _Bambi said.

_ "I'm sorry if I- forget it." _Barbie's turn now.

"_Quinn, why are you talking to me? I always had the impression that you didn't like me that much." _

_ "I don't like you. Much." _

_ "Then why are you here?" _

_ "I wanted to make sure you were okay. With that girl." _

_ "Effy. Her name is Effy." _

_ "Whatever." _

I can't see the rest because Santana gets in my face. She really is lovely for a heinous bitch.

"Okay, you have good teeth considering you're upbringing. You want to do this or what?" I know she's talking about sex, but she makes it sound like we're going to duel. I take her lips to mine and kiss her. She shoves me away and wipes her mouth, looking around making sure no one has seen us.

"Not out here you slut!" Is everyone here repressed? It is the States I guess.

"Forget it. You'd be a shit lay." I smile and stand my ground when she storms off. I go back to the show.

_"I'm not interested in Effy. There's someone else._"

_"Who?"_

_ "I'm not telling you, Quinn. How stupid do you think I am?"_

_ "You're anything but stupid." _The two of them look at each other for a little too long. Oh this will be agonizing.

"_I know that you're not stupid either, Quinn. Figure your shit out already." _It's the first time I've heard (well seen I guess) Rachel swear and it's brilliant on her. She walks towards me and grabs my hand.

"Well done." I say as we make our way over to the living room. I continue to get wrecked and dance and am happy when Rachel decides to dance too. I feel a pair of eyes on us the whole time and I have a sneaking suspicion they are hazel.

Rachel and I stumble into my room. She's carrying me and doing a pretty good job considering her size.

"You're a strong smurf." I purr as she flops me onto bed.

"And you are drunk, madam." She huffs. She takes off my boots, and it takes her quite a while, and I laugh. "I'm glad you find this amusing."

"You are amusing. Quinn's lucky even if she is a complete twat." I say and look at Rachel. I really look at her and maybe at first I didn't see it, but she's a looker. I pull her by her sweater down to the mattress and have her lie next to me. "You haven't kissed a girl." She bites her lip and looks at anything but me.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Not obvious. Just seems a shame." I say and look at the ceiling.

"What's it like? I mean, with you and your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Oh, excuse me. Yes I forgot you're a commitment-phobe. What's it like being with your lover? And I'm asking this in a very research, clinical way because I have no romantic feeling for you. Just so we're clear."

"Crystal." I smirk and turn to look at her. She gasps a little. I've still got it. "If I kiss you Quinn will be angry."

"But I want to know. I mean, what if this is all some phase I'm going through and my crush on Quinn is purely an attention seeking diversion from my now non-existent love life?"

"Sure?"

"Well…can I- I mean,"

"You can pretend I'm her if you want." I said. She looks upset.

"I'm the only one allowed to have a sixth sense!" She stammers and sit up while she does the same.

"When Quinn kisses you, she will put her fingers through your hair." I slide my hand through and their isn't a single tangle. Figures. "Quinn will comes in close, she will say 'fuck me, I'm gay for you' and then she will…" When I kiss Rachel, I feel her lips quiver but then become confident in her want. Our tongues curtsy to one another, bow, timidly join hands and then begin the dance. When they do dance, it reminds me of Emily. That's when I stop. I don't miss her, Emily. Much.

"Quinn's a lucky girl, Rachel. Don't forget it." She breathes in heavily and gives me an appreciative smile. We lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling until her Dads get home from their date night. When they ask us how the party was, we both lie and say it was great.


	5. Chapter 5

We've been sitting in this office, not knowing what to say to each other for months now. She means well, and sometimes we talk about ourselves, but nothing that she can help me with. It isn't that I don't trust her, I just like not having to think about my old life during my purgatory stay in Ohio.

"Your English teacher says you failed to hand in another assignment. When he asked you about it you brought up his hairpiece. Not very smart Eff."

"Sorry Emma. Won't happen again." I've started calling her Emma since her last name keeps flip-flopping. One minute she's married to a dentist, the next she isn't. I don't know why she's worried since dentists are dreadfully boring. She would have had a dull life with him. I would have had a dull life with him. All we'd do would be smoke spliff all day. At least, I keep telling myself that.

"You seem more cut off than usual these days. Everything okay at home?" She means Rachels' and everything's fine except for the fact that Rachel wants me to join her blasted singing club since they need more members. I don't sing. I've told her that and she is unrelenting. The other day she put musical posters in my room. I've left them up to be polite but I have drawn swear words on the Oklahoma poster. I never was into Rodgers and Hammerstein.

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

"I do worry." She says it with an appreciative smile and I know it's from all the therapy sessions that are intended to treat me but end up being about her. It started when she was having man trouble and I listened. At first she was hesitant, kept saying it wasn't professional and I said neither was snogging Mr. Schuseter in the science room where I caught them. I had left behind a textbook. Since then Emma and I have a pretty good understanding of one another.

"It's someone's birthday. Someone important."

"Want to tell me who?"

"No." I said. We've talked about Freds, I've cried over him some in turn making her cry. She isn't very good with reigning in her emotions. I sometimes feel like he's around the hallways, waiting to put his arm around my waist and walk by the cheerleaders with me, the both of us calling them all wankers. All I have though is Rachel, who talks incessantly in my ear about glances Quinn has given her. There hasn't been much improvement between Barbie and Rachel, but I've noticed Rachel checking her phone more often. Whoever has been texting her, it makes Rachel smile in a wistful way that makes me want to smile. That is after throwing up anyway.

"Well have you sent this person a card?"

"Are you mental?"

"A little bit. That's probably why I chose to guide adolescents in the ways of life." She says with a grin.

"This person, it's their birthday. And I haven't spoken to them since I've been here. I haven't wanted to, it's complicated. Like everything."

"You must miss this person if you're thinking about them."

"You sure you don't have your Ph.D?" I ask. She shrugs. When I used to make remarks like that she would sink into her chair, her self esteem deflating. Now she

is used to me and my barbs. I preferred when she felt small.

"What's so bad about missing them?"

"I miss the person more than I miss someone else."

"That's okay isn't is? I mean, I miss Will more than I miss Carl." Both men have exited her life, sort of a self- preservation technique. She's taking the whole thing in great stride.

"Yes but I feel guilty."

"Why?"

"Because I miss her more than I miss him." It feels strange saying it out loud. Maybe I should have stayed catatonic.

"Well, I'm guessing the 'him' is Freddy, but you've never mentioned a 'her' before. I'm intrigued."

"I bet you are you saucy mynx." I say it with a straight face but she smiles.

"You don't have to tell me about her. Though it may help. Even if I don't have a Ph. D."

Emily sent me another e-mail recently. She's been sending one everyday since I left and I haven't written back. I can't. I don't read any of the e-mails, they just fill up my inbox but it's hard not to notice the subjects. After all the 'Why won't you answer me!' e-mails she seemed to get the hint but decides to write anyway. 'Do you remember that day at the park?' or 'Panda called me and asked about you.' I haven't talked much to anyone, though I did send Panda an e-mail. She's busy with school, which is great. I wish Emily would stay busy also.

Her latest e-mail has the subject 'I am going to find you.' It scared me to think she might. Her birthday is this week. It always bothered her because everyone would get caught up in Christmas instead of her special day. Mostly I think she was upset that the day was more about Katie than it was about her. Emily never really did care for parties. They were always tainted with bad memories for her. That girl Naomi was fucking killing herself at the nightclub was a big downer. Never mind the party she had that giant row with Naomi and got slapped by her sister Katie. And who could forget when Naomi told her she was going to Toga for six months. Naomi said it was to help at an orphanage, but Emily thought it was to get away. Away from Emily. Who would ever leave Emily? I have I guess. There's no bigger twat than me.

"Her name's Emily." We sit in silence. Emma's waiting for me to tell more but I don't want to. Saying her name makes me weak enough.

"What's she like?" God get a clue woman.

"She's a redhead. I may get confused and jump your bones instead." She scowls, but there's a bit of blush there too. I've still got it.

"Other than her hair color, she obviously means a great deal to you."

"How do you figure?"

"Because you brought her up. Finally." She's eluding that she's known there was someone or something I was careful to keep to myself. I'm exhausted.

"It doesn't matter anymore. She's in England where I left her."

"Why did you leave her?" I was worried she'd leave me first. She wouldn't be the first.

"She talked too much." I say and drum my fingers against the arm of my chair.

"Okay I get it. But I'm not letting this go for good."

"Til next time Boss." I say as I give her a small salute and exit her office.

When I enter the girls bathroom I hear a scuffling in one of the stalls. That and a hushed breath. I glance under the stall and see a pair of penny loafers. They are facing a pair of white sneakers.

"Alright Rachel? Barbie a good kisser?" I grin when Rachel opens the bathroom stall door, patting her hair down.

"Effy. I was just assisting Quinn with her uniform. Zipper caught." She lies and I know she's lying for Barbie. I just turn to the mirror and apply my eye liner.

"Zipper trouble Barbie? Rachel would love to unzip you anytime, I'm sure." It's then when Quinn opens the stall door, her ponytail mostly in tact, aside from a few wisps.

"You didn't see anything." She seethes and I grin in the reflection.

"See what?" I say coolly and I see Rachel's reflection in the mirror. She's biting her lip and I wish she wouldn't.

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have suggested-" Rachel says but Quinn grabs for her hand.

"Stop that. I was the one that texted you." Quinn is smiling at Rachel in the most sincere way. I didn't know she was capable. I turn around to the two. She squares her shoulders and looks at me.

"I know you and Rachel are friends, so I would appreciate if you would keep this to yourself." I nod in understanding and look at Rachel. From her expression, she looks just like Emily when Naomi kept her a secret. Fun all around.

"Rachel is my friend. You, I'm not so sure."

"Effy!" Rachel says but Quinn holds her hand even tighter.

"We just don't want anyone to know yet." Quinn says.

"I think it's just you who feels that way." I say and it must hit close to home because her eyes falter and Rachel looks down at the ground. I smile at Rachel and lift her chin up. We look at each other and smile. It's then that I turn to Quinn who eyes me with jealousy. Good. "If you hurt her, you'll have me to contend with." I said. Quinn gives me an icy stare. She turns to Rachel and kisses her forehead.

"I'll see you soon." Quinn says, putting her hand through Rachel's hair. Rachel smiles softly and kisses Quinn on the cheek. Quinn gives me one long glance before exiting and I turn back to the mirror, Rachel staring at my reflection.

"You think I'm stupid don't you?" she says.

"No. I think she's stupid for treating you like a dirty little secret." Rachel looks at the ground again. I hate when she does that. It's unlike the boisterous girl I met.

"Quinn's very conservative. Her upbringing wasn't as "free to be you and me" as mine was." I put my eyeliner back in my bag and turn around.

"Make sure she doesn't keep you a secret for long." I say seriously and she looks at me with those puppy dog eyes.

"I feel alive when I'm with her. I don't care if it's in secret."

I feel alive when I'm with her. It makes sense. For Rachel I mean. I take in Rachel's face and it looks like she might break. I put my hand to her face and kiss her, full on the mouth. She returns the kiss. It's our first since the night of the party a few weeks ago. It's odd, but she even tastes like Emily. The power of the imagination is astounding. I pull away and she stares up into my eyes.

"You should be kissed properly and out in the open. All beautiful girls should." I say with a smile and that's when she starts to cry. I hug her and pat her hair. I suggest that after school we should get drunk on wine and she laughs through her sniffles. It's a gorgeous sound.

When we exit the bathroom, the bell has rung and students mill about everywhere. If Rachel were walking alone she'd be shoved about. She told me about it one night, how she got run over sometimes just trying to make sense of the crowd. Now they part for us, I know she's grateful, but I think she resents me a little also. I can't help being badass. We are halfway to our lockers when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I pause, because no one ever touches me, aside from Rachel that is. I'm curious as to who would have the gall to think they could approach me and when I turn to see her I gasp. Rachel notices as her arm lets go of mine. Her hair is a little longer, still burning red and she's as beautiful as ever. She has dark circles under her eyes, thinner than she should be and I have never wanted her as much.

"Emily."

"Told you I'd find you."


	6. Chapter 6

Emily sits next to me on the bleachers and I can't help but stare at her. We are sitting a little apart, but it seems like kilometers. All I want to do is pounce on her, but this was always our problem. Too much pouncing and she deserves better than that.

"Rachel seems nice." She pokes her shoe at mine.

"She chatters constantly."

"You two are a match made in Heaven." She says with a smile and I give her a small grin back. Panda finally caved and told her where I was. I don't think she expected Emily to actually come to the states. Neither did I. Emily's been a surprise, one I wish hadn't snuck up on me. I wish I saw her first, before Naomi. Got to her in the beginning. Won her first. Now I feel like I am always paling in comparison to her great love. Boys are easy, but girls are enigmatic. I don't care for that at all.

"Why are you here, Emily?" I ask and look at her worn out features. I helped do that. It makes me sick. She looks out on to the football field, the boys thrash into one another like brutes with their padding on. Horrible sport American football, it's not as though they need more brain damage.

"I've already been left behind once Eff. I didn't think you'd do it too." Naomi left for Togo months ago, before Emily and I fooled around. Though Naomi insinuated that she saw something between Emily and I. Maybe it was her paranoia that got us thinking. Or maybe she saw something we didn't. In any case, she's the reason I'll never really belong to Emily. And I don't know if I care to.

"You can get used to abandonment. I have." Freds, Tony, my dad, most of the male figures in my life. No wonder I'm giving girls a try.

"Eff can you cut the shit? I'm tired of waiting for you. I want you now." We're staring at each other and her eyes blaze.

"So let's fuck." I shrug and lick my lips, eyeing her cleavage. I push forward and take her lips to mine, She roughly complies by biting my lip, on purpose or accident I can't tell. I hear the boys cheer but I don't care. They can keep this in their wank bank if they want, but I've missed her. I'll never tell her that. I feel her push me away.

"Eff, I don't want to keep…it isn't about fucking anymore. I know it isn't for you either."

"Isn't it?"

"No, I want you now. To let me in, to be with me." Emily says things sincerely, honestly only when she says things honestly, she speaks with strong conviction, almost deluding herself into believing what she says is true. When I say things honestly, I rip people to shreds.

"And when Naomi comes back from Africa saving babies or whatever, where does that leave me?"

"She has nothing to do with us."

"She has everything to do with us. You only looked my way when she left you. You didn't leave her when she kept you a dirty secret. You didn't leave her when she cheated on you. But she left you didn't she? You always gave her that power, to leave. All that bollocks she said about loving you since she was twelve- how could anyone leave you if they loved you."

"You did." She's caught me. Be careful how you answer.

"I never said I loved you Ems." She just grins and raises her eyebrow.

"That's why I'm here. So you'll finally tell me and you can stop running away." She stands up, arms crossed and leering over me. "I've come all this way to tell you that you're a coward Effy Stonem. I'm here for my Christmas break and I leave New Year's Day. I'm staying at an insect infested motel off exit 17. I am going to come by this school, everyday at 3 until you talk to me." She says and notices the football guys making catcalls at us. She gives them the finger and yells. "Piss off you jealous wankers!" Then she leaves.

I look at her, walking with long strides and sometimes I feel like she's a little girl lost. Other times I feel like I am. I take out a fag and light it. That's when Puck comes around, sweating like Whitney Houston on stage.

"Pretty hot English! Mind if I join next time?" I smoke as I walk down the stairs of the bleachers. I feel the other jocks eyes on me, some cheerleaders, Barbie especially. Maybe she's seeing how being out of the closet looks like. I take my hand and stroke it against Puck's package. He groans with pleasure.

"You'd like that? You and the two of us?"

"I'd rock your worlds babe. Trust that."

"You sure?" I stroke my fingers against him and he's definitely hard.

"You'd both be screaming my name." His eyes are closed and that's when I yank on his dick. Hard. His eyes bug out of his sockets.

"She's mine." I push away from him and he grabs at his privates in pain. Good. I walk by the boys, who have all sort of covered their nether regions with their hands. I make my way to the girls and find Barbie. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrow raised, but I can tell from her breathing she's nervous. Santana is flanked to her right and looking me up and down. She still wants me. I look Barbie dead in the eye and want her to hear this loud and clear.

"You better know what you're doing." I said. She swallows but gives the impression she doesn't know what I'm talking about. She knows damn well what I'm talking about. If she hurts Rachel, I will gut her. Just like I should have done to Naomi. I turn my attention to Santana and nod my head for her to follow me. It isn't too long before I hear footsteps behind me.

When we reach the music room, its dark and I open the door. When Santana enters, she locks it. I sit at the piano bench and nod for her to sit on the keys. She does.

"Was that your lady friend?" she asks with loathing in her voice. Not for Emily, but for me.

"Something like that. How is it going with Brit anyway?" She snarls at my question and I relish in it. "She's wheeling about town these days. Not so interested in rubbing fannies anymore."

"What the fuck is a fanny?"

"I'll show you." I rip off her underwear and the piano keys under her make noise. I kiss the inside of her thighs, bite even and then go to town on her clit. She tastes like sour skittles. She grabs my hair, wanting to pull them out of the roots.

"God, I hate you." She gasps. I lap at her clit with more urgency and the piano noisily keeps rhythm. Her thighs constrict around my head, almost putting me in a vice grip. I grab at her waist, monitoring her movements. With more noise on the keys, I feel her getting close. I take one last lick and quickly back away. "What the fuck!" she yells in exasperation. I wipe my mouth and walk to the door.

"Just wanted you hot and bothered. See you in Math tomorrow." I smirk and leave Santana wanting more. I hear her swear and smash on the piano keys when I walk down the hallway. When I get to the front, Rachel is waiting for me.

"How did-are you okay? With your friend visiting?" she asks timidly and Barbie is a very lucky girl.

"Not really." I grin and she bites her bottom lip.

"Want to listen to Lou Reed music all night?" She really is a marvelous girl. I nod and notice her hand is extended. I don't hold hands. "Oh come on. I won't tell." I guess that sixth sense of hers really does work. I take her hand in mine and walk to her car.

At the Berry's we listen to music and Rachel has agreed to my drinking. She doesn't condone it or drink anything herself, but she did allow me to open a bottle of vodka I had stashed. The music permeates my head and Lou sounds more nasal than I remembered. Rachel has kindly not brought up Emily, it's one of the kindest things she has ever done for me.

I am laying on the living room carpet while Rachel paces, obviously with Quinn on her mind.

"This is not how I imagined it." She says. I roll my eyes and figure I owe it to her to indulge her lunacy.

"What isn't?"

"Sneaking around like some harlot! I mean, I never thought Quinn would ever return any of my feelings, and I understand she's always been image conscious. Never mind the fact that she's all about Jesus, who was a Jew actually, so hopefully we can raise the children inter-faith, but that she treats me like a leper during school hours is just…and then later she wants to make out like a bandit. In the most awkward of places! Bathroom stalls for instance like we're cruising at a gay man bar. It's exciting but hardly romantic. And I have needs! Romantic needs! I'd like for us to have dinner together, maybe go to a community theater revival of West Side Story, though knowing Quinn she'd probably pick something awful like Brigadoon or Oklahoma. God I hate Oklahoma. It is so trite and nothing even happens! I mean, she has to choose between the possibly homosexual cowboy and the alcoholic farm hand who looks plenty abusive, what an awful show. Sure it has some catchy numbers,"

"I went down on Santana." That shuts her up.

"God has she done everyone!" She keeps pacing, mumbling to herself incoherently. "Why would you do her? She's awful. Is it because she's hot? I get that she is but does it always have to be about looks?"

"Jealous?" She stops in her tracks at looks at me incredulously.

"I think it's safe to say that both of our perspective plates are full."

"You just want to shag me. It's okay." I hear her huff and I close my eyes. Vodka is wonderful. When I open my eyes, Rachel is sitting next to me.

"She really is beautiful."

"Barbie? Yes, she's not ugly."

"I meant Emily." She looks at me with those sickening sympathetic set of chocolate orbs. "Why don't you, I mean she's obviously comfortable with her sexuality."

"She's European. Of course she is."

"It's just if the woman I cared about wanted to be with me, and in public no less, I would want to make it work. Unless you don't care about her which I highly doubt is true because of the way you were looking at her. I look at Quinn that way sometimes. I hate myself for it but I do. If Quinn flew from thousands of miles away just to see me, I would be beside myself! I'd hug her, kiss her, tie her to my bed and never leave her side. And you decide to do inappropriate things with Santana Lopez? I don't understand you."

"You don't have to understand me." It's then that she lies next to me and strokes my hair with her hand.

"I don't know why, but I want to understand you Effy. Why are you so…detached? Sometimes I'm envious that you are so removed from everything, but don't you find it exhausting?"

"Caring leads to weakness. When I cared about someone I was disappointed. I learned my lesson." She keeps stroking my hair and looks even sadder than before.

"I care about you. I'll never disappoint you. I may annoy you, I may anger you, but I'll never stop caring. Unless you murder someone or something." Nice words but she doesn't know any better. We don't live in a fantasyland. Promises are sweet but they don't amount to much.

"I'm her second choice." I mutter very quietly but she catches it. She catches everything. She leans down and wipes away at the tear that has somehow escaped my eye.

"You could never be a second choice." I cry some more and she holds me in her arms. They are small, but stronger than I anticipated.


	7. Chapter 7

The first day Emily visited school, I didn't speak to her. We just sat together, on the bleachers, staring out on the field. Neither of us moved. We just listened to each other breathing. The second day Emily visited, I avoided her and sat in on Rachel's singing club. They asked if I wanted to be a member since Kurt changed schools. I adamantly declined. I could see Rachel smile widely that I was there. Quinn, sitting far across the room from Rachel stared daggers at me. After rehearsal Rachel asked if I wanted to practice singing at home with her, offering me vocal lessons and the like. I still have yet to agree.

Today is the third day Emily has come to school and Rachel invited her to lunch. We sit at the cafeteria table. Emily and I don't say anything. Rachel does all the talking.

"Emily, it's so nice to have you visit from so far away. Do you have any plans for Christmas?" I feel Emily's eyes on me. I wish she wasn't here. She's making it difficult for me to try and forget.

"I was probably going to walk around town. See the sights." Emily said. The sights. Hilarious.

"Well my family doesn't celebrate, but we were going to this year for Effy. We're getting a little tree and eggnog. You're more than welcome to come." I could kill her.

"Thank you Rachel. But I don't want to intrude."

"Don't you?" I ask Emily with a bite. She doesn't even begin to look hurt. Rachel looks at me with disappointment.

"Why are you fighting me? I chose you. I will always choose you, Eff." Emily says calmly. I don't believe her in the slightest. I saw the way she used to look at Naomi. Even the way she looked when she heard Naomi's name. It was nauseating.

"I should leave you two-"

"No, stay." I order Rachel to stay in her seat. I don't want to be alone with Emily. If I were alone with her, it would be easy for her to plead her case. Christmas is in a few days and I can't imagine Emily sitting alone in a motel room somewhere, but I don't know if I can be around her that much either. I just don't know what it really is I am supposed to be feeling. When she looks at me I am instantly aroused and it terrifies me.

"I can't be like her. I'm never going to be like her." I say.

"I never wanted you to be." Emily says and she gazes at me with such affection that I might pass out.

"You can come over for Christmas." Emily has a half smile on her face and I can feel Rachel fidget excitedly. Rachel goes on and on about what party games we can play but all I do is stare at Emily and just how truly gorgeous she is. I could gnaw on her for days. There's a cold, icy mixture on my arm and I look to find Karofsky dumping a slushy on Rachel's head. Rachel is covered in a slimy green mix and before I have a chance to stand, a blur of red and white comes toward us. I thought it was that bloody superhero the Flash. Barbie knees Karofsky in the groin and pushes his shoulders, leaving him flat on his back. Barbie leans over him and Rachel is grabbing my arm tightly under the table. Her grip lets me know so much. That she can't believe it, that Quinn is full or surprises and that she is on her way to falling for the head cheerleader. I understand completely.

Barbie towers over Karofsky and my eyes are glued on Barbie as are Emily's, Rachel's and the whole of the cafeteria. Barbie's eyes squint, her mouth tight and her fists clenched.

"Why did you do that?" Quinn asks very calmly. Karofsky is holding his groin in pain and unable to speak. Barbie crouches down and pulls him by his hair. "We don't treat people like animals, David. It's unbecoming." She drops his head and he lands on the linoleum with a thud. Quinn turns around, surveying the entire cafeteria and noticing all their glances. She clears her throat and begins to address the crowd. It is like Jesus addressing the gentry.

"You hate her because she is better than you. That's why I hated her. But if we try and kill off the one glimmer of hope this town has of ever shining, we're no better than this piece of garbage on the ground right now. Leave her alone. All of you." Barbie says it with conviction and there is silence in the entire cafeteria.

"You'll take care of her?" Quinn asks and I nod while licking some of the slush off of my finger. Quinn doesn't look at Rachel before she leaves. If she had she would have seen an emotional and proud Rachel Berry. After a moment, once Quinn has left, the cafeteria is a cacophony of sound. I help Rachel up out of her stupor and I step on Karofsky's fingers as we make our way out. Emily follows us to the restroom.

Rachel is still silent but there is a huge smile on her face as I rinse her hair in the sink.

"Does this happen often?" Emily asks. I nod my head and I'm surprised that Rachel has made it this far in school, being as positive as she is. "Would you defend me like that?" I roll my eyes at Emily. She's such a girl.

"Can you finish cleaning her up? I have to have a chat with someone." Emily nods and takes my hand, looking me in the eyes.

"Thank you. For talking to me today." I give her a wink and can't help but notice she bites her lower lip. I exit the loo and look for Barbie Flash. I figure she'd want some privacy after her public display of affection, as affectionate as Quinn can be anyway. I see her in the music room, tinkering with the piano keys. She's playing Jingle Bells but this version of the song is so sad.

"I used to do that to her, you know. Treat her like shit." Quinn says without looking up from the keys. I walk in further to the room until I am close to the piano bench. They are the piano keys Santana's ass writhed on top of when I made her almost come. I don't think I should tell Quinn about that. She starts playing a piece from the Nutcracker, the Arabian dance. "When people started treating me like shit, because of my pregnancy, she was nice. Too nice for all the things I put her through."

"She's remarkably sweet. Sickening, really."

Quinn smiles and begins to play another classical piece, one I don't recognize but she plays it with great speed, messing up every so often.

"I wanted to crush her. Make her so small that I could fit her in my pocket and hide her away from everyone. Even so I would forget she was there. I wasn't taught how to love people. We didn't do that in my family."

"We have that in common." She stops playing. She looks at me for the first time, her eyes glazed and solemn.

"At least you have the excuse of being British. You aren't exactly an affectionate people." She's funny. I didn't know that. Quinn stands up and faces me, her arms crossed. "Are you in love with her?" She must be joking.

"Rachel? No. And even if I were, I don't stand a chance after your heroics today." I say and Quinn relaxes her shoulders slightly but only slightly.

"I don't know how to…I want her. I want her all the time, even when it isn't convenient or if I'm scared to death of what it means."

"You'll lose your throne among the Neanderthals?" I ask wondering what she's getting at.

"No. If she learns who I really am, if it doesn't work out, I'll lose her. I can't lose someone else. After Beth,"

"Beth?"

"My daughter. My daughter," she says and I gasp at the way she says it. This isn't a scared little girl. This is a hardened woman. I had no reason to judge her. "Rachel's biological mother adopted her. Funny, isn't it? Rachel and I both lost something we never had." I'm not sure what to do in this situation. I'm not a hugger by any stretch of the imagination. I would offer her a fag, but there's no smoking in here and I don't know if it would trigger a sprinkler or not.

"So how are you going to win her over?" I ask genuinely curious. She shakes her head sadly.

"I'm not ready. I want to be ready for her. She deserves at least that." That bit hits home and Quinn's eyes notice.

"Love is exhausting. It isn't real." I say and Quinn smiles a little in a mocking fashion.

"Then why do you look at that redhead the way you do?" Shit. It shows. Quinn pats my shoulder when she exits the room. I plunk my finger on the piano keys and slam down chopsticks.

I make my way back to the washroom and stop at the doorway when I hear Rachel talking to Emily.

"I think you surprised Effy and she doesn't really like surprises. I once surprised her with a Streisand movie marathon and she was not too pleased with that."

"She thinks I'm still in love with my ex."

"Are you?" That's a good girl Rachel. Always get to the heart of the matter. I wish I didn't care what Emily's answer is.

"She was my first love. I'm always going to care about her. I can't help that." I deflate. Just like I thought. Before I open the door, Emily continues. "Effy's different. She sees the world differently. She sees me differently. I feel important when she speaks to me. Why would she like me? She could have anyone, and she picked me. I just feel like it's some giant joke. Naomi thinks Effy is leading me on. Sometimes I believe it."

I walk away from the restroom and wish this day would just end already.


	8. Chapter 8

It's time for my head shrinking and I open the door to Emma's office. Only this time two redheads stare back at me from their respective chairs and one precocious little brunette.

"You're two minutes late," Rachel says as she stands up from her chair.

"What is this?" I ask Emma while I ignore my peers.

"Rachel suggested that you might like to um…well it would be in your best interest if you er-"

"Rachel's gotten us couple's counseling Eff," Emily says looking me in the eyes. I wish she wasn't so god damn adorable. Emily shrugs her shoulders.

"I thought you two could use some professional guidance. Ms. Pilsbury has a fine ear and while her degrees are not of superior ranking, she does know a thing or two about the teenage psyche."

"Thank you, Rachel." Emma looks annoyed and also a little scared of the little diva.

"What makes you think I want to have anything to do with this?" I ask Rachel, staring down into those puppy dog eyes of hers. She inches in closer and whispers in my ear.

"Stop running away from her. She's lovely." Rachel backs away and I swear I don't know whether to hit her or kiss her. We would probably have great sex. Lucky Barbie. Rachel grabs my shoulders and pushes me into the chair, plopping me down in my seat.

"I'll see you in class!" Rachel announces before she exits the office and I wish she never left. At least someone would be talking.

"I finally got to meet Emily," Emma says with a smile. Emily politely smiles back but I can feel how uncomfortable she is. I should take her hand. Get her out of here. Spare her one of Emma's stupid pamphlets or pep talks, but I'm tired of this. So very tired.

"Any plans for winter break?" Emma asks.

"Not really, no. Effy invited me for Christmas."

"That's nice! I'm sure that will be fun." Emma says with an encouraging smile. As soon as I give her a look, her smile deflates. I seem to have this effect on a great many people lately.

"Effy wishes I wasn't here." Emma and I both stare at Emily. There isn't any sadness in her voice, she is just very mater of fact. She always has been.

"I just don't want her to waste her time." I tell Emma. She looks at me like I'm a wounded bunny rabbit.

"What makes you think you would be wasting Emily's time?"

"She isn't in love with me-"

"Effy, that's not true," Emily interrupts me.

"You aren't Ems. You're just biding your time until she comes back."

"Who is 'She'?" Emma asks. I look at Emily's direction, wondering if she dares bring up the thing that hasn't given us a fighting chance from the get go. She takes a deep breath.

"Naomi. My first girlfriend."

"Her only girlfriend." It feels good to say it, even if Emily closes her eyes to forget the pain.

"And where is Naomi?" Emma asks. Tell her. Go on.

"Naomi is in the peace corps. In Togo." Bloody right she is.

"So Effy you think once Naomi comes back, Emily will no longer want to be with you?"

"Ding dong, Emma. You are brilliant." I cross my arms in front of my chest and I can't wait for the bell to ring. It's quiet again and none of us know what to do next.

"She was my first love. I wanted everything about her. When she actually wanted me back, I cried. It seems like that's all I did when it came to her. But she cheated and I broke. We kept clinging on to each other, hurting each other, trying to be the way we were. And then Effy…well she had an accident." Don't bring it up. Please.

"An accident," Emma nods in understanding.

"Say it. When I tried to die!" Freds took care of me. Freds. Why are you gone? Emily looks at the ground and Emma stares back at me like she's been caught masturbating which I am sure she has to do often since she won't let anyone else get their germs on her.

"When I heard that, I felt something that I hadn't before. I felt…I didn't care that Naomi cheated. The pain of knowing Effy almost-well that I wouldn't see her again…it gutted me." I feel tears prick my eyes. Emily never told me that and I assumed she started to care once she comforted me about Freddy's death. How long has she felt for me?

"I didn't go visit because it scared the shit out of me. I was supposed to be with Naomi. Freddy was supposed to be with Effy. And all I wanted was for Effy to get better, which she did. Kind of." Emily looks up from the ground and bravely faces Emma. I'm doing my best not to show how I feel. It's becoming more difficult the longer I am around Emily.

"Then Freds died. Naomi and I were supposed to go on holiday because we were in love. Or at least I wanted us to be. But I couldn't leave Effy. Naomi didn't understand why. Effy and I never did hang out all that much. Only Naomi didn't know that I…well Naomi may have been my first love, but Effy had been my first crush." I gape at Emily and Emma slides her tissue box in our direction. Neither Emily or myself reach for a bloody tissue.

"I first saw Effy in primary. It was a dance and all the boys were surrounding her. Even then she was kind of a tart." Emily chuckles and she's right. I was a bit of a snog bandit at age twelve. "I couldn't take my eyes off her. It wasn't that she was beautiful. Everyone knows she's beautiful. It's that she looked so utterly miserable. She was smiling, even dancing, but her eyes were dead. It terrified me."

"Why did it scare you?" Emma asks and I almost forgot she was still in the room. Emily gulps before she continues. I'm about to break.

"It terrified me because I wanted so desperately to make her happy. And that's when I knew I liked women." Fuck me. I was her catalyst.

"Did you tell Effy how you felt about her then?" Emma you twat, of course she didn't. Why would I look like a gaping fish now if she had? Emily shakes her head.

"Everyone wanted her. Everyone still wants her. I never stood a chance, never mind I was a girl. When she was in the hospital, after Freds died, I didn't try anything. I didn't want to scare her. Only, well we slept together," Emma makes an uncomfortable voice in her throat after hearing Emily say we slept together. What the fuck did she think we were going to do with each other? Play tiddlywinks?

"The whole thing seemed strange. I craved her more than I did Naomi. Effy though, she just seemed to be going through the motions. Every time we had sex, I let her do what she wanted. I would do whatever she wanted. I let her pretend I was Freddy. I didn't care I just wanted her to feel something."

My cheeks are wet and it's all her fault. This wasn't supposed to happen. This is why I came to this God forsaken school, to get away from this. This gnawing, agitating feeling that creeps up late in the night with only Rachel's lullabies to soothe me. We were using each other, Emily and I. That's all. It was an arrangement and she's mucking it up.

"Effy, do you want to say something?" Emma asks. No. I don't.

"I don't like being used. But with Eff it didn't feel that way. It felt like-like maybe she could care about me. If I kept trying, maybe I could make her happy."

"You did." I whisper and I look to the ground.

"Then what happened? How did we end up here?" Emily asks and I want to tell her everything. This won't work. I'm no good. I will cheat on you like a nutter. What if I miss cock? What if Naomi comes back? Maybe you aren't what I need right now.

"I feel like I'm cheating on him." I mutter.

"You have sex with other people!" Emily yells in exasperation and the next bit leaps out of my mouth before I can reel it back in.

"But I don't love them!" Emily gazes at me longingly and has forgotten to breathe. I wipe my eyes and stand up quickly from my chair. "No more of this Emma. I don't like being ambushed." Emma nods and I take one last look at Emily.

"A little happiness isn't going to go very far, Ems. I wish you would piss off to England and realize that." I storm out of the office and slam the door behind me.


	9. Chapter 9

I stayed home from school the day before winter break. Steve was sweet and made me chicken noodle soup before he left for work. I couldn't eat it. I had yet to get Rachel a Hanukkah or Christmas gift. Maybe she would give me the gift of silence, or stop meddling in my life. When I came home from "couple's counseling", I didn't scream at Rachel or her bastardized good intentions. I just stared at her until she became uncomfortable. She left me alone for the rest of the day. Now that it is vacation, we are going to be forced to talk to each other.

Rachel busts into my room without knocking. I should really design some traps for her ala Home Alone. Maybe a blowtorch to her scalp would speak to her in ways my death glares don't.

"Effy, we're going shopping! Get up," she says while milling about my room looking for things I will need. I can't think of any worse fate than entering a shopping mall willingly, but I do have to get Christmas gifts. I get up from my bed that I have grooved a hole for myself in and put on my leather jacket. My cigarette pack securely fastened inside my coat pocket. Rachel takes my hand until we reach her car outside of the house. She's chattering on about some dance routine she just can't quite figure out and when I reach for the front seat handle, she swats my hand away.

"Would you be a dear and sit in back? Quinn's coming with us." I roll my eyes at Rachel and make my way to the backseat. I should just sit up front and piss her off, but I know how important drooling over Barbie is to her. She doesn't turn on the car until I buckle up my seat belt. She's such a twat. When I do buckle up I give her an overenthusiastic smile and she mirrors it but with sincerity. Her music comes on and it is the Thoroughly Modern Millie soundtrack. I would rather have a colonoscopy than this.

After she's sung a few verses, she looks at me from the rearview mirror.

"You know, you will at some point in time have to speak to me." I don't give her the satisfaction of responding. "I only suggested that Emily should join you because she's obviously very much in love with you. I don't see why you are fighting that."

Stop it, Rachel. Don't push.

"She's very sweet and courageous at that! You didn't tell me she had a bossy, at one time homophobic twin. That is the stuff truly great theater is made of, don't you think?"

I look out the window and see the houses fly by, many of them looking just like the last. It isn't so different from Bristol in some ways. Everything the same, boring reminder of what kind of life you are resigning yourself to.

"Are you listening to me? You know, Effy, I am really growing very tired of this gloom and doom business. I'm sure England is gray and rainy for most of the year, so you've grown accustomed to constant seasonal depression, but it isn't really healthy. Dr. Oz said in his program, well not that I really watch that program, but it was on at the soup kitchen which I sometimes volunteer at"

"RACHEL! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I shouldn't have yelled. That much is evident when she winces. She braces herself as though I didn't say anything and hums along to the music.

"Rachel, I don't know why I am the way I am. But that's just…that's life." She lowers the volume a little bit.

"I think you're what they call emo."

"Maybe," I say smirking at her try to be with the times, even if she's a little late.

"Well, for the next week, since we will be together during this very special time…can you snap out of it? God, I mean, who doesn't like days off school and eggnog and gingerbread houses! Can you just enjoy your time here? Please?" She turns around to look at me when we reach a red light. There is a fierce determination in her. I find it more cute than scary.

"Okay." She turns back around to drive and smiles at my armistice.

"While I am on a hot streak here, do you think that you could be a little nicer to Emily? You're breaking her heart, and as a person who has suffered heartache at the hands of an emotionally unavailable woman, I can tell you I feel for her immensely."

I forget how much Barbie and I have in common. What shit we put our maybe girlfriends through. We stop in front of a fancy apartment building. We don't even have to get out and buzz up Quinn, because she is sitting on the steps waiting for us. I hear Rachel gasp at the sight of Quinn and I could literally vomit all over my trousers.

"Easy, Rachel. She's just a girl." That most likely doesn't deserve you.

"Just a girl? Pffft. You blind?" Quinn opens the door and sits next to Rachel. Quinn looks at me and nods once. I do the same. Like looking in a mirror. Quinn turns forward and takes Rachel's hand in hers. They both smile without looking at one another. This will be a very long day. A few moments later we are on the highway and I am fairly certain this is not the way to the mall. When exit 17 pops up, my heart pumps faster than it ever should.

"No Rachel! No!"

"She's lonely, Effy. Have a heart," Rachel says.

"You didn't even ask me!" I can't believe we are picking up Emily to go shopping.

"God would you look at this place? Norman Bates wouldn't even run it," Rachel says and as she parks in front of the dilapidated motel, my heart sinks. What a shit hole.

"She's room 213." I look at Rachel like she is crazy.

"This is not a good idea, Rachel."

"I think it's inspired. Besides you might as well make up before she comes over for Christmas," Rachel says.

"Rachel I could strangle you!"

"Watch it, Stonem," Barbie finally says. She gives me a look like she sympathizes but I know where her loyalties lie. I sigh and open the car door. The characters around the motel are unsightly. I'm pretty sure the concierge is a pimp and this is his brothel by the look of things. When I reach Emily's door, I really don't want to knock. If I do we will have to re-hash all of it again.

I knock. Rachel and her superhero girlfriend will kill me otherwise. She opens the door a crack, enough to see who is behind her door. I'm glad she is being careful while staying here. She opens the door the whole way and grins a little.

"Didn't think I'd be seeing you," she says. She's nervous and it's strange to see. She knows I love her, she just doesn't know what to do about it. I don't know either. I enter her room and look at the train wreck conditions. That was definitely a cockroach that crawled across the floor. And there is mold caked on the walls. I can't imagine what I will find on her sheets.

"You can't stay here," I say and turn to face her.

"Well I don't have many options," she chuckles nervously. That she would put up with this for me speaks volumes.

"Pack up. You'll stay with me."

"Are you sure that-"

"Ems. Pack up." She smiles and grabs her suitcase, opening drawers and emptying the contents. I take in the rest of the depressing room and notice a photograph of me on her bedside table. I am sleeping and actually look peaceful. It's a first.

"I took that the morning after we, well when you know," she blushes. She takes a few more minutes to pack and I just look at the photograph. The shadows on my face aren't ominous, but make me look like I'm in some ethereal fog. I knew she took good photographs, I've just never seen one of me before. "I have lots of you. Not when you were sleeping, just when you didn't notice."

"Stalker," I mutter playfully. I hear her suitcase zip and immediately go over to pick it up for her. Our eyes meet and she bites her lip.

"Chivalry. Nice."

"Let's get out of here before we contract herpes," I say and we quickly get the hell out of the building. When we reach the outside of the car we can see Rachel and Barbie making out with wanton abandon. Emily just look at each other.

"We don't look that overeager, do we?"

"No. We're much more glamorous, I'm sure. " Emily laughs at my assessment and I open the backseat. Rachel and Quinn break away from each other.

"Everyone's tongues back in their heads?" Emily giggles at my joke. Rachel straightens her mussed hair before greeting Emily.

"Emily's going to stay with us the next week. If that's alright," I ask. Rachel smiles widely and I think I hear her whisper 'finally' once Emily and I are situated in the car.

We're in some shit boutique and Rachel complains that Toys R Us has a much better selection. Quinn just laughs but I can tell she is nervous to be out in public, enjoying herself no less with our little Rachel.

"I hate shopping," I say and wish I could smoke. Emily sits next to me on a bench that's obviously for people trying on shoes.

"I know you do. You're being a good sport," Emily says and nudges my shoulder with hers. Being so close to her is intoxicating, but I can't be physical with her. I keep thinking of him not being here. Not being alive. A little boy sits across from us, his mother chatting with a store clerk. He looks at us quizzically and all I can do is stare back with indifference.

"Hi," Emily says. She's always been the sweet one.

"Are you two lesbians?" This child can't be more than five. Emily giggles.

"What makes you ask that?" He shrugs his shoulders. I can't wait to be done with this.

"Effy, our gay is showing." I laugh out loud and Emily is stunned. I haven't laughed in so long and it feels good. Really good. When I gather myself I look at the child again.

"Why are you crying?" When I see that he is looking at Emily I turn to her. She's staring at me, tears in her eyes and her smile is glorious. I put my thumb under her eye and wipe a tear away. I put the pad of my thumb to my lips and taste her saline.

"Yuck," the boy says and I assume walks away to his mother because all my focus is on Emily.

"You're maudlin, Ems."

"Sorry. I just, it's nice to hear you laugh." We both smile at each other and I put my hand on top of hers. I look around the store for Rachel, but don't see her in the place.

"Where did they go?" Emily asks as she wipes away her tears. I pat her hand and stand up, making my way to the dressing rooms. I look at the bottom of the doors until I see two sets of legs, precariously close to one another. I pull at the curtain and find Barbie's back to the wall, gasping for air while Rachel is pushing against her, sucking on her pulse point.

"When you're done-" Quinn's eyes widen at my voice and Rachel turns around, annoyed by my interruption. "Ems and I are ready to go. Hurry it up, please." I say with a smirk. Quinn looks flustered but Rachel calms her nerves with a reassuring smile. Rachel leans in close to me and grabs the curtain.

"Shouldn't take too long, Effy." She winks at me before swishing the curtain in my face. I had no idea Rachel was a top.


	10. Chapter 10

The Daddy's have been very sweet to let Emily stay with us. Emily and I agreed it would be for the best if she and Rachel shared a room. I don't want to fall back into our old habits of just fucking to forget things. It's also funny to watch her and Rachel interact. Emily's usually quiet but will laugh when Rachel makes her stupid jokes. Most people don't do that or they treat Rachel like a leper. Emily and I do share the bathroom when we brush our teeth. It's my favorite part of the day. She gets messy with her toothpaste froth and looks adorable.

On Christmas Eve Rachel insists we go caroling and Emily and I look at each other with the same thought 'no way.' After much coaxing, Ems and I are dressed in Victorian age costumes that Rachel just happened to rent for the holiday season in our exact sizes. There are some senior citizens along with us and a gay boy or two from Rachel's community theater. Emily mouths the words while I just stand, no desire to even pretend that I am going to sing. After a few blocks of Deck the Halls and Come All Ye Faithful everyone grows tired. Rachel cuts through everyone's grumblings and insist we sing at one more location.

We trudge up to a familiar neighborhood and it dawns on me who we are going to sing to. I look at Emily and she smiles, knowing Barbie is in for a real treat. We stop in front of the apartment building and Rachel stands in front. I can see her clear her throat, looking nervous as though she has never sung before. Emily helps her by starting "Silent Night" and the rest of the troops join in. Even in her stupid bonnet, Emily is gorgeous and understands the meaning of grand romantic gestures. I haven't done many of those for her. Grand romantic gestures, I never have had to before. Maybe she's waiting for one? Another disappointment.

The apartment building's rooms light up, some residents opening their windows to look outside, others have little kids out on their balconies singing along. I wave a little at some kids and oddly enough they wave back. I train my eyes on Rachel and she is only focused on one window. The lights have yet to come on. Rachel has explained to me that Barbie is a devout Christian and the holidays are important to her. She and Jesus used to be best friends, now they are trying to get to know one another again. Between Rachel and Jesus, I'd pick Rachel. Jesus didn't save Freds. Rachel would have at least tried to.

Rachel is now looking a little desperate as we get to the second verse of Silent Night. I hold her hand and actually start singing. Her eyes are welling up and I wish her undeserving bitch of a make out partner would come to the window. Come on Barbie. I can hear Emily sing louder and the rest of our group matches her volume. She knows what it's like to convince someone to love you. I even start to sing louder now.

Then princess Peach comes out on the balcony, a soft glow behind her coming from the apartment like she's the goddamn Virgin Mary. Even I have to admit, she's beautiful. Barbie's eyes have tears that are waiting to spill and to have Rachel do all of this just so they can be together on Christmas Eve is too much for me to handle. I look to Rachel and she has the biggest shit- eating grin on her face, hitting all the right notes when the song comes to sleep in heavenly peace. I don't know why, but I feel something I am pretty sure is close to jealousy. I want her to sing to me. I rip my eyes off of her and stop singing. Shit.

I can't be here anymore. I begin to walk away and hear footsteps follow me. I don't have to guess too long as to who they belong to. It makes me ill that I wish they belonged to someone else.

"Eff. Stop," Emily says. I turn around and she is wearing a green dress with a doily collar and a bonnet that makes her look like she's a dog in a cone at the vet's. She's still so radiant. Why am I always confused about who I'm supposed to love? Just pick someone and be done with it or don't love at all.

"Sorry. Just all that show of emotion is way too cheesy," I say. It isn't a lie, that just isn't why I had to get out of there. You have Emily Fitch in front of you. She's gorgeous, brilliant, adventurous and wants to be yours. Just take her.

"It's okay. My head kind of hurts from how heavy this bonnet is," she smiles as she unties the ridiculous headdress. Her red hair unfurls and looks messy just like right after we have sex. It makes me want to take her in my arms and fuse on to her. But I would just be doing it to forget about something. Only now it wouldn't be Freds. It would be this nagging feeling of wanting to be with the girl in the next room. How the hell did this happen?

"Ems, I don't know how to feel about us. I want you but-"

"What excuse do you have this time?" she says flatly and I do believe I am rubbing off on her.

"Look obviously I care about you. But that's not enough. You have a life and I'm trying to figure one out for myself. I don't want to hold you back until I figure out what it is I want for myself."

"What do you want for yourself?" That she asks it so directly catches me off guard. What is it that I want for myself? Usually it was just a handle of vodka and a party to dance at. Now I want Freds to be alive so I could let him go. So he could have a life. I want Emily to get everything she deserves, even if it means getting back together with Naomi. I want to feel good about myself again. I want the school year to end so I can go home. I want to make whatever I am feeling for Rachel go away. It's just a fluke. It doesn't mean anything. She doesn't mean anything.

"I want to fuck and forget everything." It's not the answer she is looking for and I can see her physically deflate. I know she wants me to tell her I love her. I do. I just don't think it will do any of us any good. She takes my hand and we walk to Rachel's in silence. Rachel's daddy's are out at a party but I put on music after I've locked my bedroom door. Emily and I disrobe. There is nothing sexy or lovely about this. Our back are turned to one another, letting our long ugly green dresses fall to the floor. Our underwear crumpled on top. We turn around to face one another.

I take her in with my eyes. Her jutting collarbone, the way her hips look like my fingerprints never left them, the swell of her breasts when she breathes. I have missed all of it the way I missed my stuffed giraffe. They both comfort me.

"Well? Get on with it," she says. She sounds like she's about to be shot execution style.

"You make it sound like rape," I try and joke. She doesn't bat an eye.

"I'm just doing what you want. Just like we've always done." I have made Emily Fitch a sad puppy to kick around. I feel so ashamed. I look to the ground and begin to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're gorgeous and wonderful and I want you. I love you, but it isn't enough! I'm never going to be enough." I walk towards her and she doesn't move away. She lets my hands caress her face, rubbing my thumb across her cheekbone.

"Effy, it doesn't have to be forever for us. I just need to know that we meant something to each other. I need to know that it wasn't just fucking. I need to know,"

"That I love you."

"Do you?" Tell her. Tell her what she wants to hear. Tell her what you should have said.

"It isn't love if you have to share it with someone else." She nods in understanding.

"I love her too. But I will forget about her. One day. Maybe if we just keep going we can forget about both of them." She looks so desperate. I urgently kiss her and hear her whimper like she has so many times before. My thigh is deliciously close to her clit and she inches forward to feel some friction. I break away from her hazy eyes full of lust and walk to the bed. I lay down and she lies on top of me. Her breasts feel so wonderfully heavy against mine and I position my thigh in between her legs. She glides down my leg and begins to rub against me. Our tongues tangle wildly with wanton abandon, and it isn't too long before our skin is soaked in cum, sweat and tears.

I flip her over and kiss my way down to her dripping cunt. It's glossy, pink and begging for me to touch it. I look up at her. She is breathing in anticipation, her eyes are full of anticipation, hurt and lust.

"I will never tire of your pussy, Ems. It's delicious." I dive in, fucking her with my tongue, lapping at her juices, slurping up her clit and licking the familiar spots. Her yelps and writhing hips grinding into my face egg me on. She coos, she shrieks, she swears. She doesn't sing. I cry. My face buried in her so she won't see.

"Effy! Fuck…don't ever stop," she yells. I add my fingers and my tongue sweeps over her clit while I feel her tighten around me. Her fingers grab at my scalp and she pulls my hair only I love that it hurts. I feel something. Even if these aren't the legs I should be between. I quickly strip my fingers and tongue away and she looks at me with complete horror. I need her to know this before she comes.

"I don't deserve you. I love you so very much. But don't wait for me. Please, I beg you don't wait for me," I say and she nods hurriedly just wanting to come. I lower my head back down, blow on her clit while I insert my fingers again. She groans in appreciation. "Promise me." I softly demand. She gasps as my fingers curve upward knowing just how to make her come undone.

"I promise. I promise. I promise." I lap my tongue at her clit again and her back arches upward, her arms laid out as though she is on a crucifix. I drink in her juices, the best kind of offering anyone could give me. Merry Christmas, indeed.


	11. Chapter 11

Emily and I have been sleeping together when we can. It isn't too hard since the Dads have their jobs and Rachel is always traipsing off to meet Barbie. I try not to think about what it is they do together. I don't pay attention to Rachel, I mostly just listen to her and Emily talk. Emily and I don't fuck anymore, but it isn't making love either. We're in limbo. That doesn't mean we don't enjoy ourselves. I definitely needed what Emily gives me. The heavy breathing in my ear, the scratches on my back, the nibbles on my neck, the pulsing throb in my stomach- all of it.

She's changed though. She no longer waits for my cues to do things and she's definitely proved that of the two of us she is the more experienced lesbian. It's nice being under her control sometimes. I would never admit that, but I don't think Emily needs me to. It's like we are both on vacation, but now that she's leaving soon, we have nothing left to lose.

We're lying in my bed after one of our carnal dances. I would smoke, but Rachel wouldn't like that. Her head rests on my shoulder and I play with Emily's hair.

"What time is your flight tomorrow?"

"Three." We're silent for a moment. I kiss her cheek.

"When you go back, I don't want you to wait for me." I feel her sigh.

"Okay. But I don't regret coming here," she says.

"I don't either. It was really good to see you. To feel you, all of it." She nods and pulls the blanket up to her a little more.

"It was more than just us… using each other. Wasn't it?" she asks meekly.

"I wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for you, Emily. I would have ended everything a very long time ago." I say matter of fact. She looks at me in concern. Without her I would have taken a lot of pills. I thought about it. When Emily would come to visit, I didn't think about it all the time. When we started sleeping together, I didn't think about it at all. She starts to cry a little.

"I wish you didn't say things like that. I worry about you,"

"I'm okay now. Well, not okay but I don't want to end myself now. You're the reason, Emily. You must know that." She smiles a little and it feels like when we first started sleeping together only so much better. We understand one another. I'm not this mysterious entity around her. She sees me in the same way…the same way Rachel does. A topic I am doing my best to forget about. I'm scared when Emily leaves I will be alone with Rachel. I can't avoid her forever.

"If it weren't for you I would have died in a way too," Emily confesses.

"She'll come back to you. She's be stupid not to."

"Does that make you an idiot?" she asks sadly. It isn't time for us yet. I look into her eyes to make myself very clear to her.

"Do you love me in the same way you do her?" I ask it knowing the answer. Both of us have known the answer even if we delude ourselves to answer something else.

"She just got there first, Effy."

"That's not what I asked." She bites her lip and shakes her head a little from side to side. "It's okay, Ems. It's okay." We hold on to each other when we hear a knock at the door.

"Girls? Are you decent?" Rachel asks on the other side of the door.

"What is it?" I ask, annoyed at her and the fact that I find her to now be this adorable, gorgeous force who is smitten with the All American girl. My life has become some odd sort of joke lately. I have this gorgeous creature in my arms who wants to love me, even if she knows it's a lie. I should be content, shouldn't I? Just let her lie to both of us and let that annoying jabber bird be on her way. I've always liked things complicated.

"Tonight's the party at Puck's. Quinn's meeting us there and I don't want to be late!" Rachel yells in exasperation.

"We're not going," I say and as soon as I do Rachel barges in. Emily covers herself with our blanket and I just roll my eyes. Rachel comes to my side of the bed and looks down at me.

"You're coming to this party. I need you to come and be my wing woman like always. What is with you lately?" Rachel asks, her arms folded across her chest and I do my best not to look at her in that beautiful navy blue dress, exposing her décolletage and ample cleavage. I can feel Emily's eyes on me too and I don't know how to get out of this.

"Fine. We'll go to your stupid party." I say through gritted teeth.

"Good. And I have cover-up makeup for that hickey if you need Emily." Rachel says sweetly but it just makes Emily uncomfortable.

"Get out, Rachel." I demand quietly. She looks down at me, her eyebrows furrowed.

"You haven't talked to me all week except to say thank you for the Christmas gift I got you. What is your problem? Are you still mad about me scheduling that therapy session because obviously it worked out," she says while pointing at Emily and I in bed.

"Nothing's wrong. Just get out." I say and she stomps her foot before exiting the room. Emily gets up from the bed and dresses in silence.

Emily stands with me at the party but we don't do much except drink. Rachel stand on my other side, her eyes searching everywhere for Barbie who has yet to show up. It's 11:30 and I can feel Rachel start to panic. Knowing Rachel the way I do she is very much about firsts. She goes on about her first dance recital as though it was yesterday. I know she wants her first New Year's kiss and I know she wants it from Quinn. I hope that blonde bitch doesn't let her down. Finn walks over to us and I roll my eyes.

"Hey Rachel," the dumb boy asks.

"Hello Finn. Happy New Year," Rachel says sadly, her eyes still scurrying around in her head looking for her dream girl.

"Yeah. You too. I was wondering if you- I mean I know how you are about traditions-"

"I'm not kissing you at midnight." I smirk to no one in particular.

"Oh. Okay, I just thought I'd ask. If you change your mind or anything,"

"Thank you, Finn." Rachel says. It's just then that Barbie walks into the room, her eyes shifting from side-to-side. "I don't think that will be necessary," Rachel says with a goofy smile that I want to rip off of her face. Finn retreats and Rachel turns to Emily and I. "How do I look? I don't have any carrot bits in my teeth or anything, do I? I know I shouldn't have had any appetizers, but I was nervous and it was right there so,"

"Rachel, you look beautiful." I say with what I'm pretty sure is a hint of sadness in my voice. I feel Emily grab my hand and squeeze it. She knows.

"Well ladies I am off to secretly rendezvous with a pretty lady. It's all so exciting! Wish me luck!" Rachel walks toward Quinn and I need to shut off this ridiculous crush.

"You fancy her." Emily says.

"Fuck."

"It's hilarious, for someone who pretends not to care about anyone you always love too many people,"

"Stop it, Ems."

"Freds wasn't enough so you had to bring Cook into the mess. Why do you do that? I know it isn't difficult to worship you but can't you just pick one person? Does it always have to be so complicated?"

"Yes. It always does. Because I so enjoy the idea that for whatever reason I've suddenly become attracted to that yapping, incessantly irritating girl when you're the one that I should be with." I say with sarcasm.

"Then why aren't we?"

"I'm scared, Ems."

"I'm not going to die. I'm not going to leave you. You're just afraid of being with one person. You'll be settling. Well Eff, what happens when you're alone? Who is going to take care of you?" I want it to be her, even if it isn't fair to either of us. Emily looks behind me and I turn to see who she is looking at.

"Hi. Do you mind if I join you?" Santana asks and I don't bat an eye. She's different and it's no wonder because she's been drinking, crying and had to stare at Brittany fondle Artie all evening.

"Of course," Emily says kindly. We all stand in silence for a while.

"Great party." I say and it's then that Santana starts crying like a blathering drunk going on and on about how she's confused and has all these feelings. Emily is kind enough to talk to her in another room while I stand by the punch bowl. I look around at all the happy couples and happy singles. Happy people. I need to get happy. Why can't I ever get happy? I have moments, stretches of time where I'm content, but I'm never happy for long. I watch Rachel and Barbie stand close to each other, side by side watching people dance. Rachel's finger graze Quinn's hand and you'd never see it unless you were really noticing. No one else notices the way Quinn's eyes flutter and that Rachel worries her bottom lip between her perfect teeth.

Rachel can feel my eyes on her and looks directly at me. I don't look away. She looks at me in confusion and it must make her uncomfortable because she walks away to the bathroom with Barbie following her a few moments later. I go into the other room where Emily and Santana are having a power chat.

"Don't tell anyone. Please don't tell anyone," I hear Santana plead to Emily and the two of them haven't noticed me yet.

"Shh. Of course not-you will come out when you're ready. It's a process." Emily coos and she may be the kindest person on earth. How did I manage to fuck it up? Santana continues to cry and Emily pats her shoulder. It's then that Emily notices me and gives me a small smile. I smile back and approach the two, sitting on the edge of a bed. I wrap an arm around Santana and she stiffens.

"What the hell? English?" Santana says.

"I won't say anything." I assure her and then lunge for her lips. Santana does not reciprocate at first, but her lips don't move away from mine either. I back away, looking at Emily and she is aroused, shocked and annoyed.

"That's how Effy fixes things. Fuck a duck and that makes it all better?" Emily balks at me and I hang my head. I don't know how else to make people feel better sometimes.

"It's okay. I get it," Santana says wiping her eyes with her hands. Santana's known to get around herself and maybe we are more similar than we both initially realized. Emily pats Santana's shoulder again and gives me an incredulous look.

"I'm leaving tomorrow, but I want to make sure you're okay. You and Eff can talk if you need to. No sex, just talking," Emily warns and I nod. I have no interest in sex with Santana or anyone else but Emily. Well, almost anyone else. The three of us hear the countdown outside and none of us countdown. Emily holds my gaze and when we hear 'Happy New Year' she kisses Santana full on the mouth. She then stands up, pulls me by my hands to stand and drags me back to the party. She positions us in the center of the room and finds Rachel and Quinn hugging in a very innocent way. When the two of them release Emily asks me to look at them. I do and Rachel and I see each other. She smiles and waves and my heart can't take it. I nod my head back. Emily has me face her.

"Let's have a happy memory. Just once," she says. Happy. She takes my face in her hands and kisses me in a way she never has before. Like she will never see me again. When we break away from each other there are some catcalls but I don't mind. Emily wipes away a tear from my cheek. She doesn't cry, just smiles sadly. "You'll figure it out Effy. I won't break and neither will you." We hug one another. I smell her shampoo and feel her warmth. When I look up I see Rachel, her eyes misty, looking at the two of us.


	12. Chapter 12

It's been a month since Emily's gone. We write each other every day. I think we've shared more through our e-mails than we ever did by talking. It's easier, writing thoughts than speaking them. We miss each other but we never outright say that. It would be too much, for both of us.

Rachel and I are not on great terms. We say hello in the morning and go through the motions of our days. She drives me to school. We part ways. I wait for her at the lunch table to eat with me. She usually just stares at Quinn who sits with the other Cheerios. Quinn never looks in our direction. She eats a bit of fruit and takes two bites of toast the whole lunch period. When the bell rings, we part ways. I wait for her outside of the auditorium when she rehearses with Glee club. We walk side by side to the car. We sit side by side in the car. We sit across from each other at dinner and appease her fathers though they can tell Rachel is not herself these days.

When dinner is over we go to our respective rooms and wait to repeat the same things the next day. Weekends Rachel gets out of the house, probably with Barbie because she comes home with a big shit eating grin on her face. She even pops her head into my room to say hello and I just give her a small smile. But we both know that once Monday morning comes, we will both be back to our silent routine.

I've found an unusual ally in Santana. We never discuss why it is we now get along. The fact that we're both big, fat queers without the one we love. She says insults that I am thinking when people walk by. It's nice having a voice in that way. It's another Tuesday morning and Santana and I are enjoying fattening American foods during our lunch hour. I nibble on a French fry while Santana houses down pizza. I've noticed Santana eats her feelings. I think it's the cheerleading that keeps her in good shape. Or bulimia. It's none of my business. Rachel sits in front of us, Quinn and the Cheerios in her view.

"Chicken Little," Santana says to welcome Rachel to our table.

"Your insults no longer bother me, Santana."

"Duly noted, you Fraggle Rock muppet."

"The Fraggles are actually quite talented so I will take that as a backhanded compliment," Rachel says. I enjoy their sparring matches. It beats watching those UFC matches high school boys are obsessed with. "Can you get a ride home tonight?" Rachel addresses me and it's one of the few times these days she's actually directly spoken to me. I nod. Rachel grows frustrated. "How long do you expect this silent treatment to last Effy? It's childish and frankly I don't even know why you've begun it. Did I do something wrong?"

"Well there's your clothes, your lack of tact, you write shitty songs,"

"Shut up Santana," Rachel says with force and Santana just smirks. Rachel turns her attention back on me and my chest hurts. "I really enjoyed being your friend. And these days, though I can't tell you why in mixed company, I could really use a friend. Please?" The way she looks at me with pleading eyes makes me want to take her on the cafeteria table. I'm so messed up.

"Yeah. Ok." She looks flabbergasted.

"That's it? That's your only explanation?"

"Yeah," I say. Rachel rolls her eyes. Never wanting to ignore formality she sticks out her hand for me to shake. I look at it and swallow roughly. I haven't touched her in so long it might be dangerous. I risk it. Her hand feels soft and safe. I could hold it forever. I stare at our hands together and when she pulls away I look back at the table. "Thank you. Now when I get home tonight I have to talk to you about something so please wait up for me? And don't get high okay, I need your sober advice."

"On what, Berry? How to leave a trail to find the pot of Lucky Charms cereal you've been hiding from neighborhood children?"

"A leprechaun reference? You're losing your touch, Lopez. Also I don't like you very much." Rachel turns her head to my direction and looks me in the eye. "I don't like her very much. Can you stop hanging out with her?" I could. I should do anything Rachel wants me to. Maybe it won't endear her to her closet case lady friend. I shrug my shoulders.

"Afraid not. Santana is like a tumor I just can't remove."

"Fine. For Effy, I will tolerate you."

"Thanks so much, Berry. My life has validation now." The rest of the lunch hour is mostly just Rachel and Santana insulting each other, but it has a great deal less bite than in the prior months I've been at McKinley. I'm surprised they don't see how much sexual tension they have. I'm glad they don't. Seems I'm not the only one that notices when I feel eyes on us. They belong to Barbie's. About time you useless cow.

It's 9:30 when Rachel comes home. She barges in my room with great excitement and I am glad I have clothes on. I'm lying on my bed and she just stands next to me.

"I had the most amazing night!" She beams like a neon arcade room.

"Oh?"

"Quinn is just…she just makes me so happy. I mean not during the day when we hardly interact with one another, but when we see each other everything is so heightened and revolutionary! Like I am seeing and feeling things for the first time. And the way she kisses, oh my God, it's so fantastic and she just gets better and better and better at it!"

I want to throw a pillow over my face and suffocate. I want to run out of here screaming with a pickaxe and tear down every shrub and tree in my way.

"Oh. That's nice," I say breezing through my magazine. How thin is too thin, that sounds like an interesting article. I can't read it because Rachel rips the magazine away from me.

"Can you feign some sort of enthusiasm for me?" I give her my best giddy face. It resembles a smirk with my eyes bugging out a bit. She pouts. "I was happy for you when Emily was here."

"So you were."

"Look I won't bother you for long but there's something I need help with and I can do all the research in the world but I find that hearing first hand accounts can be exponentially more helpful than just reading alone. Furthermore-"

"Rachel. What?"

"Well you see Quinn and I…we've been together for quite some time and though she has some pre occupations due to her religious background and I was hoping to wait until I was twenty five,"

"Rachel. Don't."

"It's just Valentine's Day is coming up and I really think that Quinn and I are ready."

"I don't think you are, Rachel." She folds her arms in front of her.

"I didn't ask for your opinion. I asked for your help."

"You want me to explain to you how to fuck your fake girlfriend?" The silence between us is just our mutual anger boiling over. I have to keep calm. She doesn't have to do any such thing.

"To put it crudely, yes. I am not as well versed in Sapphic lovemaking and I assumed since you have so much experience…SO MUCH experience, I wondered if you could give me some advice, tell me what goes where, what feels best,"

"Does she love you?" When has love ever mattered when it comes to fucking? Still it's important to her. I want it to mean something. She flinches.

"She hasn't said it yet, but I think if we do become intimate it would show her that I'm serious. That I…that she's worth it."

"Sex doesn't solve anything. Trust me, I know."

"Then why do you have it so often?" A part of me really wants to slap her. Very hard. I just shift up on the bed.

"My mother cheated on my father. She fucked his line manager in our house. They weren't great before their split either, but that's how it went. So I fucked. Loads of people. See what all the fuss was about. I'd slept with people before that but I kept doing it to feel something. Because for a long time Rachel, I didn't feel anything." Rachel has decided to sit on the bed in front of me now. I have her rapt attention. "When I did fuck and feel something, those feelings got ripped away. The person died or loved someone else. Emily, as wonderful as she is, has the ability to hurt me more than anyone else if she wanted to. She could gut me. Do you understand?" Rachel nods and she's taken my hand somewhere along this speech. She's probably shocked that I can put more than a few words together. Might as well keep going.

"Rachel, I've only just learned about feelings but you feel everything! You feel so much and if she hurts you it will rip you to shreds. I don't want to see it happen." Her grip tightens on my hand. I hope she hasn't noticed the goose bumps that now poke out of my flesh.

"She won't hurt me."

"How do you know?"

"Because I love her." I want to rip my arm away. But then she'll know. And she's happy. That's all a person can want for her. For her to be happy and glorious and singing about rainbows and bleeding sunshine and if Barbie can do the job, so be it. "Effy, you look pale,"

"Sorry just all this talk of feelings makes me nauseous," I say and she smiles softly. "Look, Rachel, just don't feel like you have to go through with it if something doesn't feel right. Sex isn't a big deal to me, but I'm fucked and not normal."

"Thank you, Effy. That's in your own bizarre way, very sweet of you." After a few moments she asks me a barrage of questions like where is the G spot and what have I found to be the best techniques when pleasuring a woman. The whole talk is awful. She has a pen and paper out scribbling away with my one word answers. I should have given her wrong information so Quinn would never want to sleep with her again. I'm not that cruel. After a lengthy question and answer period she finally seems satisfied.

"Anything else you sex fiend?" I ask trying to keep some levity in my voice. I don't want her to do this.

"Yes actually. I know this is rude of me so you can say no, though I will be very upset and will blame you for all of my sexual frustration,"

"Rach just get on with it,"

"I need the house to myself Thursday night. I want to be able to decorate and set the mood and if you are here I am afraid Quinn won't be willing to be intimate with me and you may vomit all over your lovely duvet. Then when my fathers get wind of your vomiting they will wonder how it came about, you will tell them about my said fornicating-"

"I'll figure something out Rachel. You and Barbie can have the house." She holds me in a crushing hug. Her hair smells like spring. I can't keep my eyes open when I take in the scent. She shouldn't be this close. I pat her shoulder and then gently shove her away.

"Sorry I know you don't do feelings." I do. I just can't with you.


	13. Chapter 13

I got the call at 9:30. I was back home by 9:35. I rushed into Rachel's room. There were melting candles everywhere, a hazy glow and Rachel in tears on her bed. She was only wearing a black lace bra and matching panties. My mouth went dry at the sight.

"She just left. She ran away from me," Rachel sobbed and I grabbed her pink bathrobe from the bathroom. I draped it over the best I could before I held her. She cried in my arms for hours.

And so here I am today, barging into the girl's locker room. Some cheerios glare at me while others giggle. It's probably from my t-shirt. It says, "Quinn's a Twat". When Rachel finally went to sleep last night I took a white t-shirt from her fathers closet and wrote it on with black marker. Santana is in her sports bra and skirt and quirks an eyebrow at me.

"Cute shirt," she says.

"Where is she?"

"Shower." I push through the sea of women and rip back every one of the shower curtains. One girl screamed at the top of her lungs when I exposed her. Another looked like she wanted me to join her. I rip back another shower curtain and find Quinn, sitting down on the grimy shower floor, soaked in her uniform as the water splashes down on her. Her eyes have red rims and she's shivering because the water has turned cold. She looks up at me and I've never seen anyone look more pathetic.

"Nice shirt," she mutters. I turn off the shower and close the curtain. I march back over to Santana and ask her to get her lemmings out of the locker room as quickly as she can. It takes them about three minutes after Santana barks orders. Once they've all gone, I go back to the shower stall that shelters Quinn. She's still shivering.

"Why the fuck did you make Rachel cry?" I want to know how she could screw up so badly. How she could turn that bright, bubbly, sweet girl into crushed shell of what she used to be.

"Is she okay?" What do you care, you stupid cow. How dare you. You're useless.

"Why did you leave her?"

"Because I don't deserve her. And that she was willing to…oh God that she thought I was worth giving herself to, I couldn't bear it." Quinn Fabray starts to weep uncontrollably, sitting in a germ infested shower stall and that's the least she can do. I bend down and take her limp hands in mine. Her fingers are pruned. She won't let me lift her up. She just keeps crying. I bend down further and grab her by her waist, lifting her the best I can until she lets her legs work again. I drag her to the locker room bench and plop her down while I retrieve her a towel. I put it around her shivering form and she's so thin. I ask her which locker is hers and she doesn't answer. I open a random locker and find a sweatshirt inside. I toss it at her but she makes no signs of stopping her tears. I shove the sweatshirt over her head and have to place it on her like she's a baby. I just stare at her for a few more moments.

"Is she okay?" Quinn asks again, this time wiping her eyes.

"She's a mess. I had to stay up with her half the night." Quinn looks up at me angrily.

"Just because Rachel doesn't see it doesn't mean I'm oblivious to you and your affection for her." So the jig is up. I could deny it. It isn't any of Barbie's business and maybe a little challenge would put a fire under her ass. "I asked you once if you were in love with her. Your answer has changed?"

"You stupid cow. She doesn't want me and never has. The only one she wants is you and I wish you would just love her back."

"I do love her!"

"Then prove it! Action, Barbie! Do something! You know she is miserable all day when you ignore her."

"I'm scared."

"Get over it. Or you're going to lose her. I'll make sure of that." This makes Quinn jump up and slam me against the wall of lockers. Her eyes flare with passion and it is about fucking time.

"You stay away from her. She's. Mine." Her growling just makes me smirk. If this is the gift I can give Rachel, it's the least I can do.

"Then go get her you stupid girl." Our faces are so close I can feel her breath on my face. I want to smash it. She backs away from me. I can't wait to see the fallout.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rachel and I sit alone at lunchtime on the bleachers. Her head rests on my shoulder while I smoke a fag. My t-shirt is on inside out. Rachel saw it and told me to change.

"Will you come to Glee with me? I can't miss a practice but I can't see her. I can't see her and have everyone ask me what's wrong when I can't answer them." I nod. I'll be at her stupid rehearsal. I'll hold her hand, applaud her, tell her that all the ideas she has are brilliant. Maybe that will snap Quinn out of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rachel and I enter the classroom. Mr. Schuester looks pleased to see me and asks if I will be auditioning. I tell him I just want to see what the club is all about before I make any commitments. He buys it. Tosser. We sit down next to Santana in the front row. She nods at us and I do the same back, my hand on the small of Rachel's back. The club starts for a few minutes. Barbie runs in looking disheveled. She's still in the random sweatshirt, her ponytail is a mess and her eyes are dark with red rims. I feel Rachel catch her breath.

"I have a song," Quinn says and before Mr. Schuester can punish her for being late and interrupting his speech on Michael McDonald, she hands the sheet music to the piano man. As soon as the first notes are played, it's clear what song she's going to sing. Her voice cracks in the beginning but she pulls through.

_Excuse me, but can I be you for a while?_

_My dog won't bite if you sit real still_

_I got the anti-Christ in the kitchen yellin' at me again_

_Yeah, I can hear that _

_Been saved again by the garbage truck_

_I got something to say you know but nothing comes _

_Yes I know what you think of me you never shut up_

_Yeah I can hear that_

Rachel inches forward in her chair watching Barbie closely. I don't think she's ever seen Quinn break like this before. I hope she knows its for her. I think she does. Well done, Barbie. Quinn lets a tear slip down her face but continues through the song. Her voice is small but she lets it grow.

_But what if I'm a mermaid?_

_In these jeans of his with her name still on it _

_Hey, but I don't care_

_'Cause sometimes_

_I said sometimes I hear my voice_

_And it's been here_

_Silent all these years_

Barbie wipes at her eye and the whole club is so quiet. I look over at Puck and he hangs his head down. He's thinking about their baby too. Finn just looks perpetually confused as always. Wanker.

_So you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts_

_What's so amazing about really deep thoughts?_

_Boy, you best pray that I bleed real soon_

_How's that thought for you?_

_My scream got lost in a paper cup _

_You think there's a heaven where_

_Some screams have gone?_

_I got 25 bucks and a cracker_

_Do you think it's enough to get us there?_

Barbie looks directly at Rachel now. I look at Rachel and she's crying. Tears stream down her face, her mouth open and that she allows her heart bleed for Barbie makes me ache.

_'Cause what if I'm a mermaid?_

_In these jeans of his with her name still on it_

_Hey, but I don't care _

_'Cause sometimes_

_I said sometimes I hear my voice_

_And it's been here_

_Silent all these..._

_Years go by_

_Will I still be waiting_

_For somebody else to understand?_

_Years go by_

_If I'm stripped of my beauty_

_And the orange clouds raining in my head_

_Years go by_

_Will I choke on my tears_

_Till finally there is nothing left?_

_One more casualty_

_You know we're too easy, easy, easy _

It's not a typical song. It's Tori Amos so at least Barbie has some kind of taste. But that it's about a pregnancy is clever. And, in a lot of ways, it's about wanting to be strong enough to change for Rachel. Barbie smiles at Rachel through her tears. Rachel does the same.

_Well, I love the way we communicate_

_Your eyes focus on my funny lip shape_

_Let's hear what you think of me now_

_But baby don't look up_

_The sky is falling _

_Your mother shows up in a nasty dress_

_And it's your turn now to stand where I stand_

_Everybody lookin' at you_

_Here, take hold of my hand_

_Yeah, I can hear them_

_But what if I'm a mermaid?_

_In these jeans of yours with her name still on it_

_Hey, but I don't care_

_'Cause sometimes_

_I said sometimes I hear my voice_

_I hear my voice_

_I hear my voice_

_And it's been here_

_Silent all these years_

Quinn whispers the next part. I don't think she has enough energy to be any louder than that.

_I've been here_

_Silent all these years_

_Silent all these_

_Silent all these years..._

When the piano stops playing the room is still dumbfounded into silence. Quinn strides up to Rachel's chair and wraps her arms around Rachel's waist, her crying face in Rachel's lap. Rachel just strokes her hair and tells her it's okay. I hear Santana mutter 'finally' and I nudge her with my arm. The rest of the club just sits in silent confusion. Puck's head is still hung low and Finn pats him on the shoulder. Mercedes, Mike and Tina look concerned. Britney cries into Artie's shoulder. Lauren continues eating her chocolate bar. What a sad lot this is.

"So…what was that about?" the blonde fish face asks. Everyone just looks at him to shut up. Me especially. Quinn lifts her head from Rachel's lap and looks up at her with the saddest eyes I've seen.

"I'm scared," she says. Rachel smiles down at her and before she knows what's happening Quinn cups her face and claims her with a kiss, full on the mouth. There are a few gasps and some outcry. I don't remember if I gasp as well. Rachel kisses her back, eyes fully closed and relishing in this. I can't help but look at her and how she moves against Barbie's lips. It isn't me. I give Santana a nod and get up from my seat.

"Interesting club," I say to Schuester before I exit the room.


	14. Chapter 14

The two of them are at it again. It's three in the afternoon and they're fucking like jackrabbits in a burrow. At first they paid me the courtesy of kicking me out of the house. Then they just settled for being quiet. Now they can't get enough of each other and yell at the top of their lungs. I've put my music on full blast while I paint, but it doesn't drown out Barbie's moans of want or Rachel's begging. She begs Barbie so often. "Please Quinn, I deserve it" and "how can you do this to me" echo in my thoughts. I can't even look Rachel in the eye anymore. I speak with her at home and at school but I make sure to look at something else. I look at my breakfast plate, Karofsky giving a student a wedgie, anything but her joyful eyes and plump lips that have tasted Barbie's juices.

Now I'm listening to Roses by White Ring, the feral cries of the chorus mute some of Rachel's vocal lovemaking, but it gets to be too much when the thudding from their bed permeates my room walls. When they started going at it I would ditch the house, hang around the schoolyard or the mall. They have sex so frequently now though that people thought I was homeless and kept giving me spare change when I sat down to smoke a fag. I accept my fate now even if hearing Rachel moan someone else's name makes me want to rip my heart from my chest and punt it across the front yard. There's another "Rachel, I love you, I love you" and I put my paintbrush down.

I've been painting more now that classes pose no challenge to me. I find it therapeutic and Emma is pleased with my progress, even if she is disturbed by my portraits. I painted one of Emma with her demons surrounding her. A bit abstract but I was keen on it. There were killer grapes biting her hair. I painted one of the dad's in the style of American Gothic and they were thrilled. It's hanging above the fireplace. Santana has even agreed to let me paint her nude. I have yet to paint Rachel and I don't think I will. I see her enough as it is.

"You taste like iced tea" I hear Rachel murmur and what the actual fuck? Iced tea? Even Barbie's vagina is supernatural. I increase the volume of my music and hopefully they get the hint. I know Barbie doesn't mind flaunting their sex noises in my face, but I can't believe Rachel is so oblivious. She's always been so polite and courteous about everything else. It's exceptionally cruel of her especially when I touch myself listening to them. It's sad and pathetic, but when Rachel moans I can't help it. I pretend it's because of me. Always because of me.

My cell phone buzzes and I already know it is Santana. I reach for my phone and read her text. She's outside and wants in. I tell her the side door is open. I sometimes wish the Berry's were home more often and Rachel would have to curb her insatiable appetite. Santana barrels into my room and makes a grimace with her face.

"What the fuck?" I shrug and continue painting. She makes a barfing motion when she hears the thuds from the room next door. "How can you tolerate that?" I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure I'm a masochist. She shudders and walks over to my painting. She tilts her head and smirks. "Hot." I think Emily is too. It's a portrait of her from a photo I took of her topless over the summer, her back to the camera and her face peering over her shoulder. It's getting my mind off of Rachel. It isn't fair that I keep using Emily to keep my mind off of someone else.

"It's hard. Wanting two people at once," I mutter and I don't know why I'm telling Santana. True, she's become a trusted ally, but neither of us are the "talk about feelings" type. I should double up my therapy sessions with Emma. Santana doesn't say anything. She just strips and I must admit she has great breasts. I take my portrait of Emily down and put a blank canvas up. I wait for her to disrobe and she's beautiful but a lot skinnier than I assumed.

"Okay snaggletooth, where do you want me?" Snaggletooth is in reference to the fact that I'm British, however I am very secure in how perfect my teeth are. "You aren't going to make me do the Kate Winslet in Titanic pose are you? She had hairy pits in that and if you give me hairy pits so help me," I laugh and if anything I am indebted to Santana for allowing me that. I have her sit on the ground, her legs crossed and her arms in back of her. I ask if she's comfortable because she will have to sit there for a while. She shrugs and I begin the sketching. I have to remind her to keep her face still even though she continues to make nauseous faces in regards to the couple next door.

"Christ they go at it, huh?" Quinn and Rachel had come out at school and Quinn faced a few slushies and a demotion in the Cheerios pyramid, all of which she took in great stride. According to Rachel, Quinn's mother has started a cocktail hour with her friends where they watch episodes of the L word. They're reasoning is if Oprah's a lesbian, it can't be so bad. The dad's didn't take their coupling so well. They didn't care about Rachel dating a girl, the girl in question however was not who they envisioned.

After several awkward dinners where the Berry's grilled Barbie, I was sure they wouldn't allow Rachel to continue seeing her. They asked her why she felt the need to bully Rachel, went into detail about every night Rachel came home in tears because of Quinn's verbal abuse and how they were dismayed that Rachel had so little self esteem that she would so readily accept Quinn. Then Quinn had to give her "speech". It was gut wrenching, she sobbed and told them Rachel ignited something in her to make her want to be a better person. It went on and finally I had to excuse myself and stayed in my room smoking. I knew she won after that speech. I don't remember it verbatim but the bit about " there is no one else for me but her and I will spend every second making sure she knows that" kind of sealed the deal.

I remember seeing Rachel the day I knew she was no longer a virgin. She glowed, skipped to all of her classes and had a dream glaze over her face throughout dinner. I threw up in the loo twice that evening. The strange thing is, as much as I find the whole situation agonizing, I am pleased that Rachel is happy. I think Barbie knows that too. We never said it outright but we convey quite a deal with just a nod of our heads.

None of it matters. I will be back to Bristol in a few weeks time and am actually quite grateful. I don't know where Emily and I stand, but I will be happy to see her. I will be happy to see dingy pubs, fish and chips and horrible episodes of Corrie. Bristol doesn't seem like hell anymore and I have Lima to thank for that. This town is a complete shit hole. It makes Bristol look like paradise.

"Red is good for you," Santana says motioning her head to the half finished painting of Emily on the ground.

"You think so?" I ask sarcastically. I don't need her opinion especially when she's been pining over a vapid blonde all year. She's sweet but much too daft for Santana. She needs someone quick on her toes, cavalier and kind to those who deserve it. Naomi maybe. Wouldn't that be a goddamn laugh riot?

"Red won't drive you crazy. Dating an actress is never a good idea, they always need attention." I don't say anything. She is probably just sousing me out for clues. I won't play along. "Red also won't annoy you with Barbra Streisand songs or try and gag you with argyle socks during crazed sex games." Fuck. I sketch more rapidly now. Angrily.

"Figured it out have you?" She smiles wickedly. The cat has caught the canary.

"I don't blame you. She's hot. Don't tell her I ever said that, but she is. Quinn's not blind. Why do you put up with it? Listening to them?" She doesn't ask with any disgust in her voice just morbid curiosity.

"It's as close as I will get." Her mouth gapes open at my response. I can't believe I said it out loud either.

"Wow. That's the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard." We're silent as I finish up her sketch and it seems that round three has commenced next door. When I finally put down my pencil Santana stands up. She doesn't put on her clothes she just approaches me in all of her panther like ways and I can see how she so often pulls whomever she wants. We've done that dance though and it didn't suit us. "Want to even the score?" I don't follow her until he jumps onto the bed and starts moaning my name. She's grinning from ear to ear and I smile back. I turn off my stereo and join her on the bed. The both of us jump and shake the headboard while moaning each other's names in tandem. Santana clutches her chest for dramatic effect and says things like "Effy you fucking give me a wettie" and "please, baby, harder". I roll my eyes as she motions with her hands that she wants me to play her skills in bed up too. When Santana counts to three on her fingers we let out a mutual orgasm noise. We flop down on the bed and cover up our laughter as best we can. There is no noise from the room next door.

"Take your clothes off," Santana orders and I comply. We lay next to each other side by side, waiting for the response next door. There is none. "Nice rack, English. A little on the small side, but lick-able for sure."

'Thanks cantaloupe boobs," I say as I lick her cheek in fun. She wipes it in mock disgust. How this one became my friend I'll never know. Finally we hear the door next door open and shut. Rachel yells at Quinn to come back but Barbie has apparently rushed down the stairs. It's then that Rachel enters our bedroom without knocking. Unlike when she barged in on Emily and me, this time she looks fazed to see Santana and I nude. Rachel stands there, dumbstruck and I reach for a fag and light it.

"Yes, Kibbles n Bits? What can we do for you?" Santana piques an eyebrow in interest and I can feel Rachel's gaze on my body. She's never seen it before and takes all of it in. It isn't a look of lust necessarily but it's curious. I'm not sure what it means but I want her to keep looking. When I blow smoke she blinks out of her daze and addresses Santana.

"I was just wondering if you could keep it down next time? It's embarrassing." Is she joking?

"Okay Berry, you and Juno were like amps at a heavy metal concert. We were just returning the favor." Rachel blushes and I honestly think she doesn't realize how loud she and Quinn are. "Besides English and I are way hotter together than you and Tubbers will ever be. Don't get it twisted." I take in Rachel's mussed hair, the bruise on her collarbone that her v-neck shirt fails to cover and her plump lips. She should be mine. I want her.

"What about Emily?" Rachel asks me.

"It's none of your business, Rachel." She looks hurt and I don't care. Things don't fit so perfectly all the time. I wish she would get over her adolescent fantasies and realize that.

"Just curious," she whispers. Oh go tell your wanker girlfriend her pussy tastes like iced tea! Don't look at me like you want to know what is in my head. We've played that game. Nobody won. Santana stands up and grabs her clothes from the floor. She smirks at Rachel in her nude glory and Rachel looks indignant. Santana slowly puts on her clothes, eyeing Rachel the whole time and Rachel grows angrier by the second. I don't know what it means. They have an unusual relationship. When Santana is fully clothed she turns and gives me a wink.

"Thanks for the art session. Let me know when you need me to model again." I nod and she exits the room leaving Rachel and I alone. Rachel rushes to my closet and throws a t-shirt and underwear at me.

"Get dressed."

"It's my room, Rachel. I'll do as I please."

"I can't talk to you naked like that." Her voice is stern and I cover myself with a sheet. She paces back and forth. "Her? You had to sleep with her? I thought you wanted Emily? I thought you would go home and everything would be as it should be!"

"Everything as it should be?"

"Yes, you over there with Emily and me over here with Quinn. That's what our goals were. We achieved them and now you're breaking the rules."

"There are rules?"

"Yes! And why can't you just keep it in your pants for a few more weeks? Is celibacy that difficult a concept for you? Do you have to fuck absolutely everyone but -" She doesn't continue. She stopped her rant just in time. My eyes widen and my cigarette dangles from my lips.

"Everyone but who Rachel?" Just say it. I'm not alone in this am I?

"Nothing. Forget it." I can't forget it. It's all I will be able to think about. I put out my fag on the ashtray next to my bed on the side table. I walk to her, naked and I can see her shoulders shrink, cowering the closer I come. I stand a few inches away from her, smelling sex off of her and the scent of her blonde girlfriend. I hate blonde girlfriends. They get in the way of everything holy. I tuck a strand of Rachel's hair behind her ear and it's then that I know I have her. She trembles. I'm wet at the sight of it.

"Just ask me. I will sing for you. I will eat tofu slop for you. I will paint you, listen to your stupid mix CDS and watch that shit Streisand movie with you on repeat. I won't smoke in bed and I won't do splif anywhere near you and your vocal chords. I will take you with me or follow you wherever you need to go. I will make small talk with your fathers, wear pants like you want me to and never look at anyone else. I will cheer for you, fight for you and keep on living for you. Just ask me." She gasps at this but I don't move a muscle. This has to be her decision.

"Quinn told me that you helped her sort out her feelings for me. Thank you for that."

"Of course."

"I um…you're leaving soon. You must be excited." She's a coward. You didn't expect that.

"You said I could never be a second choice." I didn't believe her then, but it had felt good to hear her say it. She didn't mean it.

"You wouldn't have been if you had let me known. Earlier, I mean." She swallows roughly and I shut my eyes. My mistake. I'm the coward. I should have known sooner like the first day of school when I cleaned her in the bathroom from a slushie. I didn't want to see her. I pretended it was something else the way her hair slipped through my fingers and it felt so good. It wasn't the ice, it was her. I open my eyes again and she wears the saddest smile. She traces my cheek with her finger and it burns. "You're leaving soon. She's waiting for you. She's lucky to have you." I can't help the tears now. God I wish I could keep them in. She's conflicted. She wants to hug me but a hug will lead to other things. I understand.

"Quinn's lucky to have you. Make sure she doesn't forget that." Rachel nods.

"I'm going to go for a drive. Maybe we can watch a movie with my Dad's later?' And that's how we end it. I nod and she exits quickly. I wipe my eyes and cradle myself in the fetal position on the bed. I can't wait to get back to Bristol. Never thought I'd feel that way.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N**: Thank you for reading and reviews. Again I'm sorry for the update delays but real life kind of gets in the way. The story changes a little bit here so if I've lost your readership I apologize but I hope you enjoy.

**FOURTEEN YEARS LATER**

I have never been a fan of gala events. They are always full of people with money that know nothing about art but the artists have to pander to them just the same. I typically don't come but it's for student scholarships at Parsons School in Paris where I studied my undergrad. There are some Americans here, mostly supporting the school they have sent their children to. A few other Brits but mostly Frenchies who the only reason they don't look down on me is because of my work. I've been living in Paris for twelve years now and only in the past two has my work received some buzz. I don't think it's deserved, there are better artists but I'm not stupid, I know my looks have helped me with the press. So did my affair with Natasha before she overdosed on cocaine and found Jesus in rehab. Models are worse to date than actresses. At least actresses merit attention from some sort of talent.

The auction is underway and I've been sipping my champagne in the corner of the gallery. I had to shake so many hands, have my photograph taken and already I'm ready to leave. The students make it worth it though. They acted like I am a rock star and asked me about my craft, how did I seek representation, how much my art inspired them. I told them the truth. I live comfortably but selling paintings is not glamorous and there is the business side to deal with that is beyond frustrating. Gallery dealers, agencies, auction houses, museum red tape and the like but I told them there is nothing like getting paid to do what you love.

"On to lot 141, our last piece of the evening and this comes from acclaimed artist Effy Stonem," the auctioneer says as two students bring my painting to the stage. I hear the audience ooh and aah, but to be fair I don't think it's my best work. It's just that the subject matter is beautiful. She always has been.

"Effy Stonem's pieces have been shown the world over including Paris, London, Brussels, Prague, Luxembourg, Dubai and Tokyo but her latest show is one not to be missed entitled "Musings" and will be shown at the Guggenheim this summer. Ms. Stonem has been featured in various publications including Le Monde, The Guardian and many say is "taking off where Warhol left off in the way of pop art". The piece Ms. Stonem has so generously donated to her alma mater this evening is entitled "Just ask" and features one of Stonem's more familiar subjects, actress Rachel Berry. The estimated value of this 16x20 piece is estimated at 14,000 dollars and we will start the bidding at 10,000. Do I hear 10,000?" A paddle in the front raises and it's Hugo Laurent, an art collector who I am sure is appalled to be at a university event but knows he will be getting a good deal.

The painting is a close up on Rachel's face as I remember her, not from many of the advertisements or films she's been in. It is Rachel at seventeen. When I left Lima I never kept in touch with her. I felt it was for the best and apparently so did she because I didn't hear from her either. I sent Santana a postcard on occasion but eventually we've been reduced to facebook friends. Emma and I exchange e-mails every so often and she is happily living in Cleveland with her pet canary, Will. She and Mr. Schuester never married though they do fool around on occasion when Mr. Schuester's wife is out of town. I am not one to judge. Affairs are not a huge deal in Paris. I don't believe in them.

A paddle in the back goes up and the price of the painting is now at 16,000 dollars. I'm not surprised because people love the next big thing, but I don't think it's my best piece. It's oil and acrylic, Rachel's skin is honey colored, darker than I presume her skin is now (I have seen a tabloid or two with her face on it), her lips parted, brown hair mussed and other than her face the only thing that shows are her bare shoulders. She has a few unshed tears in her eyes and a look of worry. That's how she looked when we said goodbye at the airport. It's Rachel as I see her in my mind and it bothers me that I continue to paint her.

When I returned to Bristol Emily and I reconciled and it was the best two years of my life. I loved her, the best I could and she even chose me over Naomi. We were happy for a while. It ended when Emily decided to pursue medicine. Her hours were long, she was exhausted and it was difficult to relate. I lay about, maybe painting a few brush strokes, forgetting to cook us dinner most nights. I smoked in bed, I let the garbage overflow, I ate cereal dry instead of running out to buy us milk. She liked my work but didn't think I could make a living out of it. My work to her was frivolous and eventually I ended it. She cried and begged for me to reconsider, but leaving was what drove her back to her now wife Jacqueline. They are married now with twin girls. The odds are astounding. Elizabeth and Katherine call me Tanta Effy and are now three years old. They are about the only family I've really got.

"17,500 to the gentleman up front, do I hear 18,000?" Hugo is looking a little panicked and hoping no one out bids him. I hope someone does as all the money goes to student scholarships and God knows I wouldn't have been able to afford tuition without it. The paddle in the back goes up again, a fat, older woman with red hair. The piece is now at 18,000 though Rachel's face is worth so much more than that. I've kept up with Rachel's career over the years, but have never seen her perform or seen any of her films. She made it to Broadway, made it to lukewarm pop stardom but her real accomplishment has been becoming a movie starlet. I see advertisements for her in these shit action movies, usually at movie houses or bus signs. She doesn't look like she used to. She looks processed, filtered and airbrushed, maybe even a little exhausted.

In the beginning it killed me, seeing her face. She is not quite yet at A-list level, but she's getting there and knowing that I will see her face everywhere will piss me off to no end. I never read anything about her but occasionally her face shows up on a TV screen or two with some new boy toy she's rumored to be seeing. None of the rumors are ever confirmed. It's none of my concern. To make it seem as though I am not obsessed with Rachel I do paint other celebrities. They manage to sell more than my abstract work, which I always find discouraging. The masses love the famous.

"19,000 dollars, going once, going twice," finally I can get out of here. A paddle in the far right goes up smooth and high. I can't see the bidder. Hugo puts his paddle up again and the fight continues until the woman with red hair in the back decides to become a contender again. The piece is now up to 35,000 dollars. My ego is flying high a little. In a few years I may have pieces that sell like this, but definitely not now. It's a first. Hugo bows out and now it is the obscured bidder upfront and the fat woman in the back. They go back and forth. The woman in back panics and begins to huff while the audience is enthusiastic about the wage wars. The students eyes are gleaming and bless them, I really do hope someone benefits from all of this. The bidder in front is calm, or at least I can tell by the way they languidly raise and keep their paddle in the air. "50,000 dollars to the young woman up front!" It's a woman. Interesting.

The auctioneer looks to the fat woman in back "What say you, madam?" She folds her arms and looks terribly cute as an angry person. "50,000 dollars going once, twice, sold to the lovely young lady up front. Thank you so much, Miss." I clap along with the rest and am curious to meet the hero bidder. As the auctioneer ends the evening, people stand and the painting is moved to the front of the gallery. I follow it, hoping the mystery bidder will make her way towards me. As the students package the painting sides I look at Rachel. I have so many paintings of her, many I don't exhibit or even keep. Some I destroy, not out of malice but so there isn't any evidence of my unhealthy hobby. I don't like painting her. If anything it makes me feel cheap and tawdry. That's probably how she saw me anyway.

"You've done her nose justice. She'll be very pleased about that," and I turn my head to look at a gorgeous ghost. She's rail thin in a black suit, her hair tight in a bun and the circles under her eyes do nothing to diminish her perfect features.

"Barbie," I say with a grin. I'm surprised as she leans in to give me a hug. It is awkward and short, but it's a hug nonetheless.

"You've done well for yourself. I'm glad." She leaves her shipping address to the staff member at the desk and Quinn looks older. Obviously she would, but she looks older than her age. Even though her suit is very expensive, she has failed to touch up her roots and the grey peeks through. When she stands up from writing down her address, she turns back to me. "I was wondering if I might speak with you in private? Are you free this evening?" I nod and we walk into the night, never touching but close enough that we can hardly feel the ghost of a starlet between us.

* * *

Quinn has rented an apartment in St. Michel and explains she prefers renting to hotels. She's able to come and go as she pleases. I sit down and accept the tea she pours for me. We're quiet around each other. The luxury apartment is furnished but not with anything that belongs to Quinn, at least the Quinn I remember.

"What brings you to Paris?" I finally inquire. It's a good place to start. She hums a little and is trying to place her words carefully.

"I'm scouting. For Rachel." Of course they are still in contact.

"A movie?"

"No, a concert. She's decided to do a European tour. Nothing too big, Broadway songs aren't really hip with the kids these days,"

"Or ever," I joke. Quinn manages to chuckle. I'm glad. it looks at though she hasn't in quite some time.

"Anyway tell me about you and your art career." She's deflecting but I will let her. I tell her about the lean years, how I had a few drug binges but am clean for five years now. The only vice I allow myself now is liquor. I gave up the fags. She is impressed by this. Talking with Quinn is easy. I never knew her all that well, but then again neither of us were really one to talk very much. Age sort of does funny things. I've learned how to small talk. It's creepy but something I had to know how to do. We laugh over current events, Santana's facebook statuses and the occasional high school story. She asks about Emily and I rehash everything. When I tell her about Emily's children she stiffens.

"How are you Quinn?"

"You're calling me Quinn. I guess I don't have my Barbie doll looks anymore," she laughs sadly.

"You're perfect." She is and it never was very fair. I was beautiful then too but I had faults. My hair smelled like smoke, I swore too much and my mascara was heavy. Quinn never had a thing out of place. Who could compete with that? She looks at me gratefully and slumps back into her chair.

"Rachel and I are…we're married. We've been married for four years now," as she says it a bit of my heart twinges in deep pain. Stop it. That was a silly high school crush. "Only she, well she and I want different things. She wants more for her career. More crappy action blockbusters, Broadway revues and she wants to record an album. I, as her manager, should want these things for her. Should work for these things, only I…" her voice breaks but she regains composure after swallowing a few times. "I want other things." She doesn't press on. I don't push her.

"So you two did it. You got married." She rolls her eyes.

"It wasn't easy. We broke up a few times beforehand. We fought a lot about our privacy, of seeing other people. Rachel slept with a co-star once. That took some therapy, believe me." So it wasn't all roses. I should be happy about that, but looking at Quinn like this, I can only imagine what Rachel looks like.

"Why are you here really, Quinn?" Her eyes snap up to mine. Her eye color isn't so off from mine. Hers are more green, mine more blue, but they melt well with chocolate eyes I'd imagine.

"The things I want from Rachel are things she is not yet ready if ever to give me," she's quiet for a while but this time I push her.

"Things like what?"

"A family. Rachel doesn't feel it's the best time for that. Recently I think it isn't something she will ever want and I don't have time to wait around for her to be certain. I helped give her the life she wanted. I guess deep down inside I expected her to do the same for me. Rachel she's, she's different from when you knew her. Fame does things to people, which I'm surprised you've stayed fairly grounded."

"I'm not that famous, Quinn. Artists don't really make the E network," I smile and she grins in gratitude.

"That's not all actually. I, well I think Rachel has some unfinished business."

"Oh? With what?"

"With you, silly girl." I feel my chest tighten but I make sure not to give Quinn any facial reaction. She smirks. "We live in New York. She saw your work is coming to the Guggenheim. One of the pieces with her face on it was in the poster. She started crying and I ignored it. That's become the problem with Rachel and I, we ignore things." That's normal for many couples. Emily and I ignored so many of our problems by fucking each other senseless. But Rachel was always so verbal and observant that she would never let anything slide. Time changes people, I suppose. Quinn reaches into her purse and gives me her business card. It has her cell phone number and underneath it she has written where Rachel is staying in Paris.

"What is this about, Quinn?" She smiles at me, relaxed into the couch and her eyes are cool and serious. Some things haven't changed since high school.

"I want you to pursue Rachel. She and I are taking a break at the moment though we continue to work together. We've always both been very professional."

"No."

"I need to know that I'm the one she wants. And I need her to know she made the right choice. If she does prefer you, which I'm sure she will because you're unattached and have no desire to have children as I can tell from your bohemian lifestyle. I've kept tabs on you, I'm ashamed to say. It's been a sick hobby and I can't do it any longer. So I'm ending it. Whether she leaves Paris with me, or stays with you, at least I can move on. You can maybe start painting the real thing and Rachel can get back to being happy again. Everybody wins." It's ludicrous and I feel slimy thinking about seducing a married woman. Effy of old wouldn't have cared about sleeping around but since Emily gave birth to the twins, I notice how a family unit works. All the banality, the arguments, the love it's all been worth it to Emily and if anyone took that away from her I would be sick to my stomach.

"I don't like it, Quinn. Besides if she wanted to see me she would," I say. Quinn shakes her head.

"You know how loyal Rachel is. Even when she cheated on me I was a little to blame in that. I pushed her away emotionally. It's something you and I share, actually. Probably why we gave each other such stiff competition. I'm just asking you to put this thing between the three of us to rest. It isn't just some silly high school romance. Her tears at your painting were proof of that. You have a month. If anything, you get to see her again." I don't like it but I do want to see her. Just look at her in person. It would give me material for years.


	16. Chapter 16

Quinn told me to meet her at La Cigale Theater at around 3 p.m. A part of me didn't want to. I called Emily to tell her of the unusual proposition I was handed. The only advice she gave me was "Effy, what is it exactly that you are afraid of losing?" It was her polite way of saying I have shit else going on in my love life and if Quinn was sincere in her request, I should at the very least consider it. As soon as I exited the metro, my body was not my own. I was moving without control, willing myself to the theater even though I knew nothing good could come from such a ridiculous fantasy. She might pick me. Might.

Quinn was outside the theater, arms folded in front of her and a sad and grateful smile on her face. I stand a few inches in front of her, not sure whether we shake hands or hug or what. She takes my hand.

"Thank you. To warn you, she's in one of her moods."

"Does she know about this?"

"No. But I will be pleased to see Rachel look surprised. Nothing really catches her off guard anymore." Quinn's tone is so resigned I squeeze her hand to put some life back in her. She squeezes back. We enter the dark theater, sitting in the absolute back row. The dancers are working on some blocking while Rachel stands in the spotlight. She's chugging down a water bottle, her hair is perfectly coiffed in a high ponytail and she's so tiny. Her breasts are larger, surely thanks to an operation and when the water bottle is pulled from her lips she tosses it to the ground with little care that a dancer almost trips on it.

"Harry can you tell your fucking mimes behind me that they need to be behind me at all times? I don't need some twenty something looking better than me writhing her hips while I'm singing show tunes from when her great grandmother was alive. And what is this asshole with the cornrows think he's doing flailing his arms like that? Does he have cerebral palsy or something? I would ask him myself but he doesn't speak a word of fucking English," Rachel says into the audience. I turn to Quinn and she just shrugs. It's a look that says 'I wasn't kidding. She's changed' and now I know why Quinn always looks so tired. I turn back to the stage and Rachel can't see us because the spotlight is on her. The music starts and it's an old Edith Piaf standard. When Rachel opens her mouth it's her, but her voice strains in places it shouldn't, her pronunciation of the words is atrocious and she looks as though she's just going through the motions. Rachel Berry never just went through the motions.

"You can change your mind if you want," Quinn whispers in my ear. It's an understanding tone but a part of me can feel Quinn's nervous energy. Quinn doesn't show her weakness, but you can feel it. When Rachel stops singing abruptly to yell at Harry again I see her for what she is now. Angry, bitter, spoiled and so very lost. I've never wanted her more.

"I'm ready." I hear Quinn sigh at my admission and she stands up from her seat, walking towards the stage. Rachel notices her when she stands next to her. Rachel's microphone is still on, allowing the theater to hear everything. Rachel doesn't seem to care as she reams out her secret wife.

"Quinn, the lighting here is all wrong and I told you to talk to that fucking frog about it! I don't need all of God damn Paris seeing my crow's feet."

"You don't have crow's feet, Rachel."

"Just do what I ask Quinn. It's the least you can do. Sometimes I question your lack of professionalism and frankly if you're going to demand my best I would hope you would give me yours."

"I will change the lighting again."

"And if I see another wireworks stunt added to the show I might lose my mind. How many fucking ballerinas do we need in the air? Who is going to focus on me when they have spiraling pussy in the air?" Quinn chuckles at Rachel who does not look amused but is calming down a bit. Quinn turns off the microphone and yells to the audience "Harry, that's enough for Rachel today." Quinn then addresses some technicians in French, apologizing for the rehearsal and if they wouldn't mind sticking around to fix the lighting. Quinn takes Rachel by the hand and leads her down the stairs. I can visibly see Rachel crumple into Quinn's shoulder, using Quinn for strength and I wonder how long Quinn has had to do this for Rachel. Lucky bitch.

"Rachel," I say and she stares at me. Her eyes blinking rapidly and her mouth slightly open, her breath hitching and Quinn does her best not to notice.

"What are you doing here?' she says in abject horror. I don't know how to answer her because I didn't expect such a reception. I thought she'd at least smile, maybe even hug me but never did I think she'd be afraid of me.

"I invited Effy to see you. I'm going to be caught up here for a few hours and I thought you could use a break. Effy knows the city and you two could have a good time." Rachel lets go of Quinn and gives her an incredibly angry look.

"Oh you're so transparent, Quinn! How dare you do this without asking me? I don't shove that Deborah girl in your face do I?" Quinn blushes and I wish she wouldn't. It makes her look like she's back in high school. I thought we were grownups now?

"Rachel, I just wanted to see you. It's been a long time." Rachel stares at me and I can feel her eat me up with her gaze. Quinn has to look away as Rachel devours my legs, my torso, my mouth with her eyes.

"You've kept well." Rachel says and Quinn rolls her eyes.

"So have you both," I say calmly. Rachel self-consciously touches the corner of her eye where there are in fact no crow's feet. Quinn just grins at me and raises her eyebrows, giving me the go ahead. "I thought we could catch up." Rachel crosses her arms and looks at Quinn with muted anger. Quinn just gives her a small smile and Rachel sighs before meeting her eyes with mine.

"Give me five minutes," Rachel says before flitting off backstage. Quinn releases a breath she's been holding for what seems like years. I take a breath I haven't bothered to in years.

* * *

Rachel insists that we take her limo. It's stupid because it just attracts more attention, which she claims she doesn't want. We are silent in the car and sit across from each other. Rachel stares out the window with her giant sunglasses on looking like a cartoon character of what a celebrity should look like.

"Stop staring at me. I get enough of that in my day to day life," she says without glancing at me.

"I'm sorry, it's just strange seeing you again."

"Why don't you just paint another portrait? Exploit my face for profit. You aren't the first and you certainly won't be the last."

"So you got what you wanted. Fame, acclaim, Quinn. Let me just stare at your face for a few moments. Indulge me in my sick little hobby." It's then that Rachel's lips curl upward slightly. It's not fair to say it's a smile, but it's something. The car stops abruptly in front of a large hotel. The doorman, fearful of Rachel opens the door for her and she tips him nothing. I follow her into the lobby. All eyes are on her, whispers, snide remarks and she elegantly ignores all of it, standing by the elevator. I push the button for her as I'm sure Quinn has done for her entire career. As we wait for the lift, two American teenage girls gasp and giggle. Though Rachel is wearing sunglasses I can feel her roll her eyes. When the lift arrives we enter as do the two girls.

"What floor?" I ask the two laughing girls.

'Um eight." The one giggler says while the other just stares at Rachel.

"Rachel?" I say and her jaw tightens. I smirk at exposing her.

"Penthouse," she says and the two girls squeal.

"Oh my God it is you! What are you doing in Paris? Are you okay after your breakup with Franco? He's so hot, but you're way hot too. Oh my God is he here? Are you filming a movie?" This lift is going deliciously slow and I can feel Rachel tense. She doesn't acknowledge the girls. They can feel the tension and suddenly stop jabbering on. I'm sure this is where Quinn would come in and offer them concert tickets. When it hits the 8th floor, I hold the door open.

"Girls, your floor," I politely say. The girls are quiet and exit. When they do, Rachel takes off her sunglasses and grips the bridge of her nose.

"Fucking teenage girls. They're my biggest market but I can't stand them." She looks up and expects me to berate her like the press has for being cold with fans.

"Were I a teenage girl I would fawn all over you," I say in mock seriousness. She grins.

"You didn't fawn all over me when you were a teenage girl."

"Oh there was quite a lot of fawning. Just in private." The lift door opens and she slinks by me, leading me into her anything but humble abode. It's so ostentatious in fact, I'm pretty sure anyone who uses the toilet here will poop gold. Rachel takes the phone and orders fruit, champagne, bread and cheese. The cheese is for me as I know she still maintains a vegan lifestyle. She sits down on the white couch and beckons for me to sit with her. I sit across from her, not sure if I'm ready to fuck her.

"So Quinn found you."

"Yes. She did." Rachel takes a pack of cigarettes from her purse and slams the pack into her palm. She pulls out a fag and lights it with a zippo lighter. She offers me one and I shake my head.

"Don't tell me you don't smoke anymore," she asks jokingly.

"I quit." Her eyebrow raises and she looks intrigued. "I never envisioned you would be a smoker."

"Well you enjoyed it so much, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." We've had an impact on each other, that much is certain. She takes a long drag and her eyes droop when she exhales. The nicotine is kicking in. "So what was the plan? Quinn asked you to fuck me?" There's no point in lying to her.

"She wants you to be happy. That's all she wants for you."

"And happiness means a pity fuck from you? Please, Effy don't patronize me the way she does. I am no longer sixteen going on seventeen."

"No. You're not." It's silent for a moment while she takes another long drag and drops the ash on the Persian rug at her feet. "What happened?" She looks at me with a fierce glare that tells me I should know better than to ask such personal questions. I don't care. She shrugs and leans back into the couch.

"I got everything I wanted. I worked hard, I listened to who I needed to. I didn't cut up my nose but I got the boob job. I didn't make the Billboard top 20 but I have the occasional hit on adult contemporary. I married Quinn but no one knows about it and she thinks having children will solve that. I'm a movie star only my co-stars are salivating aliens and mutant fish people. That's just how life is."

"I'm proud of you," I say and she laughs. It's a bit cruel, the laugh, but it's not directed at me.

"You know what's sad? Is that I wanted you to be proud of me. That I thought of you so often. What you were doing, who you were doing, whether you were dead in a ditch somewhere or in a harem full of worshippers. Every time they asked me to pose for a photo shoot and asked me to be "Sexy" I just mimicked you. That stupid pout you used to have and the way your shoulders go forward like you aren't trying to seduce someone." There is a knock at the door and Rachel stands to open the door. The bellboy looks frightened but wheels in the food. He opens the champagne bottle in silence and Rachel puts out her cigarette in the ashtray on top of the piano. When he opens the cork and pours two glasses she pays him and he flits away quickly. Rachel picks up the two glasses and glides to me. Her posture has improved and there is no longer any nervous energy to her. She doesn't ramble like she used to, she doesn't stammer or question herself. She's a movie star. No, she's a woman and she hands me a glass. She sits next to me on the couch and looks at me with blank desire.

"What should we toast to Effy? That you finally get to fuck me or that Quinn doesn't win at everything?" I drink the champagne quickly and put the flute calmly on the table.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Rachel." Her eyebrows quirks and she grins.

"Still not good enough for you? Why paint my face a thousand times? Why agree to whatever Quinn has planned for you? Maybe you just haven't seen the goods." She stands up and unbuttons her shirt quickly. She drops her jeans and she's in matching black panties and a bra. "Effy, oh Effy! I'm so lucky to have this opportunity! I know you have so many other people to fuck, but that I made the cut? Outstanding. I finally get to bed the elusive and oh so emotionally detached Effy Stonem! Dreams do come true." The words are so bitter. I feel the moisture on my cheeks and her face changes from smug to slightly ashamed.

"What happened to you?" I ask. She thinks about this for a moment. Really thinks about it.

"I thought I knew what I wanted." When she hears herself say this, she begins to laugh. The laughter then turns to tears and I stand up to envelop her in my arms. She cries into my shoulder and I kiss her hair. It smells like smoke but there's a little bit of Rachel's vanilla still there. After she's finished crying, I wipe her eyes.

"I missed you." I say and she looks away from m y gaze that will never stop staring at her.

"I missed you too," she mutters. I kiss her cheek and pick up her shirt, handing it to her. She takes it and begins to button the top while I grab her jeans for her. "I'm still not sexy enough for you?" she jokes but it is laced with sadness.

"You're the sexiest things I've ever seen. You're also married and a mess. When I bed you I want you to be ready because there's no going back from that." She looks at me and I casually lick my lips. She laughs and pulls her jeans on. We sit on the couch and watch Twilight Zone reruns dubbed in French. The afternoon wastes away as she tells me how she hates but accepts the paparazzi and I tell her about the Emily chronicles. I show her photos of Emily's children and she smiles like she used to. We talk about everything except Quinn. That will hold for another time.


	17. Chapter 17

I met Rachel everyday at three for the past week. At first we holed up in her penthouse ordering from McDonald's and watched I Dream of Jeannie reruns. We muted the television and made up dialogue. I like that Rachel swears now and that she never overdoes it. She swears enough to show what she's feeling instead of beginning one of her long rambles. I do miss the rambles. The past two days I convinced Rachel that I should at least show her the sights. She's been to Paris before but she had been to the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame- the usual. I've been taking her to see my Paris. The macaroon shop near the Bastille, the old Jewish temples in La Marais, I even took her to the sad brothel/cafes with the desperate prostitutes staring out of windows at 3 in the afternoon in Pigalle. Rachel smirked and asked if I should order one for me. When we went in she was scared at first and appalled that I knew all the women there, but when she finally understood that I pay them to model for my portraits she relaxed. Luca, my favorite girl, let it slip that she was always jealous of the way I paint Rachel. I was glad it was dark in there. Rachel actually smiled. I didn't think she would.

Today I've taken Rachel to Musee d'Orsay. All my favorites are in here, the Impressionists. Degas, Rodin, Renoir- even though they're sort of classic they've always made me pay attention to the sinews in a muscle or the strength in a ballerina's hips. I don't know if Rachel cares for painting or sculpture, but the building used to be an old railroad station with high roofs and immaculate windows. Rachel loves the space immediately.

"I should tell Quinn about this. It would be a great reception area for a premiere," Rachel says taking photos with her phone.

"I don't think they'll let you do that here."

"Oh you can do anything with enough money." In all of our talks and meetings we never mention Quinn. We've talked about Rachel's career. The assholes she auditioned for, especially the few that practically molested her. Her rape whistle finally came in handy. We discuss my career, Emily, she talks about her celebrity acquaintances and how she hates most of them but would be very lonely otherwise. She never brings Quinn up in conversation, but it is always implied that Quinn is always with her. She often says 'We' instead of 'I' in retelling a story. Today is the day I will bring Quinn up. I just have to time it right. Rachel surprisingly likes the Degas pieces and I tell her about his life. Most artists are a bit tortured and Rachel says I've definitely found the right profession.

"You think I'm tortured?" I ask with a smirk. I know I am, I just want to hear why she thinks that way.

"Tortured is like your go to emotion. I never understood why."

"Well you're not too chipper these days," I say nudging her playfully with my shoulder. She chuckles and then takes a deep breath.

"True. But I didn't start out that way. I feel like out of the womb you were just somber. No, somber isn't the right word. More um, withdrawn than most children. I would have loved to see you as a moody baby."

"I was a very cute baby."

"No surprise there. You're very cute now."

"Oh?"

"Shut up Effy, you've always been gorgeous. Please don't pretend like you think otherwise. It's very frustrating. Quinn does the exact same thing." She stops talking after that. She said the 'Q' word and it's like she's broken some self-imposed rule.

"Well you do the same thing. You're beautiful only you don't know it."

"Not when I was a kid, but I figured it out. I had some help." We stand in front of a Rodin sculpture. It's translated to the 'Gates of Hell' and is a wall with miniature people half inside the wall and half out. All of them have pained expressions. "This is your favorite isn't it?" Rachel asks. I smile. She knows me so well.

"Is she good to you?" I ask. Rachel bites her lip and stares at the work with her head tilted.

"She is very good to me. That's the problem, she just does whatever I ask her to do."

"Sounds perfect for you." She laughs and readjusts her head to look at the piece straight on.

"What drew me to Quinn, other than her beauty and intelligence is that she challenged me. She always challenged me. You did too, only less aggressively than she did. Somewhere along the way she just, went with the flow. Only I wish she could have told me no sometimes. Even when she did I wouldn't listen and end up making that shit Mermaid Warrior movie."

"That wasn't your best work," I kindly respond. It was panned as one of the worst films of the 21st century.

"I had my boobs done for that. Quinn told me I didn't need to but the studio was adamant in having a chesty actress." I wrap an arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. We haven't kissed or been intimate at all. I'm waiting for her to begin.

"She loves you. She's odd about it and maybe doesn't know how to express it. I understand her there."

"Then why won't she fight for me? Tell me I'm being stupid or irrational or a bitch? These past few years she's just been…sometimes I feel like she's a servant. It's such a turnoff."

"That was a bitchy thing to say," I say without expression and she laughs. I escort her out of the museum and we go to dinner. It's a café near my apartment. Very low key, the owners like me but they never kiss my ass and tend to leave me alone. They are surprised to find Rachel with me but just raise their eyebrows in congratulations. I blush as I pull her chair out for her. She lights up a cigarette but knows not to offer me one. They way her lips encompass the tip makes me wet. By our third glass of Bourdeaux, she finally brings it up.

"Do you think we would have worked out? I mean, it was high school and God knows Quinn and I are proof that high school relationships often don't translate to "the rest of our lives." But do you ever think about, well it's ridiculous," I take a sip of wine and really look at Rachel. Her eyes are glossy, her cheeks flushed, and her hair cascading down her shoulders.

"I think of you everyday. I'm not saying that because that is what you want to hear or because it's the answer that I think will get you in the sack. I think of you everyday because I don't have regrets. I don't do regrets. If anything I've always just done whatever I've wanted without consequence. And for all of the risks I take or the people I piss off, the greatest risk I never took was being with you. My only regret was not telling you I loved you sooner. It's like being haunted by a life I could have had." She stares at me, her hard edge slowly leaving her and she looks sixteen again. I glance at her wedding ring. It's shiny and bright, just like Rachel used to be. For a moment, I think of Quinn. All the time she's had with Rachel and I am insanely jealous.

"Please don't bullshit me."

"I can't bullshit you, Rachel. I've never been able to."

"I only cheated on Quinn once, before we were married, and that was because she was enamored with another woman. Quinn says they never did anything, and I believe her, but I didn't like the way Quinn looked at her. It was like the way…like the way I used to look at you."

"I never noticed you look at me."

"I did. Santana called me out on it a few times. Quinn did too." I smile at this. She rolls her eyes at me. "Don't get a big head. Anyway I slept with my co-star. Harry Carver."

"Well he's a handsome one. Shit actor, but handsome. You could do worse."

"Shut up. In any case I did it and wanted to make sure she found out. I wanted

to hurt her. Gut her. And sure enough I did. She was a mess for about a year. Even now I can see that despair in her. It didn't make me feel better. It actually made me feel awful and I groveled to her more than I care to admit. My life doesn't function without Quinn, you see. She knows me better than anyone. Better than you do. I don't say that to be mean…she's just been with me for so long." I nod in understanding. "So you see I can't do that to her again. I can't…hurt her. But she found you. That's what kills me is she found you! She knew I wouldn't, that I couldn't so she did it for me. And I don't know whether to punch her or thank her."

"She loves you."

"Do you? Love me?"

"Yes."

"Why?" This answer has to be perfect and has to make her feel. But all I can do is answer honestly and quickly.

"You made me happy." It's a selfish reason. But because of who I am, who I will always on some level be, this answer pleases her and she wipes at her eyes.

"Invite me over," she whispers and I motion for our server. We walk slowly to my apartment, hand in hand, and I wonder if our skin can meld into one another if we keep our palms close enough. We enter my place. It's messy and she smiles. I haven't changed too much. She gasps when she sees the portrait of herself. I didn't know she would come over so I should have hidden it. It's her profile. Simple but looks just like her only her skin is purple and none of the colors make sense. She composes herself.

"I like it. How much?"

"A kiss. Just one." She turns to stare at me and clutches my neck with her small hand.

"Quinn can't know. I can't…" I nod and she lunges for my lips. I open my mouth and take her in. Her tongue slides against mine and she tastes like nicotine, wine, honey and I will never have enough. I grasp at her hair and her shoulders, ready to claw the dress she has on off. She unbuttons my shirt and I peel it off of me, quickly reaching for her zipper and letting her dress pool at her feet. My lips and tongue worship her neck and she pants, clutching my head with both of her hands, guiding me to places she's always wanted me to explore. "Talk. The way you do to all your French girls," she whispers and I grin against her neck. I lick her earlobe and whisper "Je tiens a vous faire deguster." She moans.

"What does that mean?" I slide my hand down to her panties. I find what I'm looking for and rub her clit.

"I want to taste you." I murmur and bring my finger that was once in her pussy to my lips. I suck on my finger, looking directly at her and her mouth opens. I hum happily. "You taste like I thought you would." She moans loudly and I invade her mouth with my tongue, bruising her lips and bringing her hips close to mine. Her knees buckle and I push us both to the unmade bed. I'm on top her, writhing my hips into hers and I bite into her neck. I can feel her soaked panties on my leg, rubbing at my thigh for more friction. I lap at the bite mark I've given her with my tongue.

"I've marked you." As soon as I say it I know I've made a mistake. We know who she belongs to. She closes her eyes and pushes me away from her. I breathe heavily and look at her as she quickly dresses. I hear her mutter how she can't do this. I crawl in the fetal position on my bed. "Tell Quinn to come here," I say. Rachel looks at me like I'm crazy. "I'll get dressed, just tell her to come over here. Please." She looks at how sincere I am and she rings Quinn. I get dressed and make the bed while Rachel paces the room, straightening her hair and smoking a cigarette. It's 20 minutes later that Quinn arrives looking sadly at the two of us.

"Isn't three a crowd?" Quinn jokes weakly. I pull her into the apartment and have the two of them sit on the edge of my bed. I bring out a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. They both look up at me, standing in front of them like I'm a teacher about to scold her students. I pour each of them a health amount of whiskey. Rachel drinks it greedily. Quinn stares into her glass.

"You don't leave here until we've finished the bottle," I say. We should have just done this in high school. Rachel's glass is already empty and she motions for more. I pour it and Quinn looks at her sadly.

"You're going to be hungover tomorrow," Quinn warns. Rachel just looks at her incredulously.

"I don't have a mother, Quinn. Please stop trying to act like I need one." Rachel takes another long sip. I pull up a chair and sit in front of them. Quinn takes a sip and glances up at me.

"So, you two have fun?" Quinn asks. Rachel looks guilty and I just grin at Quinn.

"She couldn't do it. She has a wife you see," I muse while Quinn nods. Quinn looks at her wife and takes her hand. Rachel grips it. Quinn takes her hand and kisses the back of it before releasing it. I'm envious. I guzzle down my drink and pour myself another. "You're behind. Drink up," I motion to Quinn and she looks at me challengingly and downs her glass. "Good girl. You like a challenge. Funny you no longer challenge your wife."

"Effy, don't-" Rachel says.

"You need to talk to each other or you'll never be over this," I say and Rachel gives in.


	18. Chapter 18

They're getting a bit messy now. Rachel keeps pacing while Quinn sits on the edge of the bed, sipping her whiskey every time I glance in her direction. I'm a bit blurry, but nowhere as bad as Rachel. She's been ranting for a while now and Quinn just seems to take it. It's pathetic. This is not the Barbie I knew. Rachel whines, yells, raves and Quinn looks off into space sometimes as though she's heard this all before. It's an argument on loop that never ends and without a winner.

"I just feel you're always silently judging me! I preferred it when you were verbal in your criticisms of me when we were kids,"

"We were kids, Rachel. And I don't judge you," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes. Married couples. Looks awful.

"You do so judge me! It's your job to judge me, to make sure I look my best, sound my best! Isn't that what you do, Svengali? You're a glorified puppet master, Quinn."

"Only you're the one holding the strings, Rachel. I didn't make you get the boob job, I didn't make you sign the contract for that stupid action movie and I certainly didn't make you sleep with that actor. I mean of all people did you have to sleep with an actor? How cliché-"

"As opposed to a makeup artist!"

"Nothing happened with Deborah. I've told you that. You can put me on a polygraph test if you like,"

"Do you think she's prettier than me?" Rachel's arms are crossed in front of her chest and part of me thinks it's to prevent her hiccups. Quinn looks at her seriously.

"There is no one prettier than you, Rachel. Even our little friend over there can agree to that, can't she?" Barbie looks my way and I throw my hands in the air.

"You two hash it out. I'm just the referee," I say before taking another swig of my booze. I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom and feel like an intruder in my own home. Rachel's wobbling a little bit and Quinn is doing her best not to stand up from the edge of the bed and help her wife balance herself. Quinn's restraint is slightly comical since all she wants to do is help someone who has been berating and yelling at her for the past forty minutes.

"I wish you had done something with her. I feel like you always have one up on me. Like you're the better person," Rachel mutters and looks so childlike.

"I'm not the better person. I'm just a faithful wife." There's a hint of malice in Quinn's voice. Just a hint and it's enough for Rachel to begin to cry. Neither Quinn nor I move toward her. She needs to let it out. Rachel. Our Rachel. After a few moments, Rachel composes herself and stares down at Quinn.

"If you could have gotten away with it, would you have had an affair with Deborah?" Quinn looks up at her wife with the saddest expression. They don't know each other at all.

"Rachel, you're the only person I will ever need. I don't know how clear I can make that."

"I don't believe you," Rachel says. Quinn sighs in exasperation. This is clearly not the first time this issue has come up. Come on, Barbie. Fight her back. "I'm the only person in your life since high school. We don't have any real friends, we've never been romantic with anyone else since high school,"

"Speak for yourself, Rachel! These are things that bother you! You're all I want to know, I don't need other one-night stands or adoring fans. I've been content."

"Content but not happy. You haven't been happy. Why?" Rachel asks. I'm curious too. Quinn looks down to the ground and bites her bottom lip. She hasn't done that since we were kids.

"You hurt me. I thought you'd never do that, but you did. You're being with him killed me." Rachel looks away from her wife in guilt and out the window. The streets are still full of people. I imagine it gives Rachel comfort to feel she has an audience if she needs one. Rachel doesn't say anything. No apologies. Nothing. Quinn begins to cry. My heart breaks for her. Rachel's ego is the culprit.

"Don't cry, Quinn. Don't give her that," I say sternly. Rachel and Quinn both look at me in surprise. Maybe they forgot I was here.

"What?" Rachel asks, laced in anger and confusion. She was expecting that I was going to be her lawyer. She has enough fans. She doesn't need another.

"Rachel, has Quinn ever hurt you?"

"No!" Rachel says in a 'what does that have to do with anything' tone. It would be adorable if she wasn't being such an utter twat. I walk over to Quinn. It's slow, in case Rachel wants to stop me. I lean down, looking Quinn in the eyes.

"She doesn't believe you. So have some fun, Quinn. You've more than earned it," I say as I lean down and give Quinn a long, hard kiss. Quinn tenses and struggles but I keep my hands on her shoulders. I back away and immediately Quinn's eyes are on Rachel. The diva looks back and forth between the two of us. It isn't shock or disapproval, it's a look of absolute want.

"Are you serious?" Quinn asks Rachel incredulously, reading her wife's mind completely. Quinn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She stands up and glares at her wife. I think Quinn is ready to leave. "This is what you want?" Rachel crosses her arms and nods. Barbie looks at me in anger. "I should never have contacted you," she seethes before pulling me to her and nipping at my lips. Quinn tastes like whiskey and butter. An odd combination if ever there was one. I put my hands to her hips and clutch at her while she bites at my neck. Mark me. Let her see. Quinn rips off her shirt and I pull out the hair elastic containing her hair. I want her to be as undone as possible. Quinn looks in her wife's direction. Rachel sits in a chair nearby, watching us with a jealous intensity. Quinn chuckles as I lick her earlobe. "Is this what you want, you bitch? Watch your two loves fuck? You're sick," Quinn exclaims but continues unbuttoning my jeans. She rubs against my clit and I gasp, looking at Rachel. We both look at Rachel as I moan and Quinn grunts, my jeans still on with Quinn's hand in between my panties and my core.

Rachel's hand now inches to the hem of her dress. She wants to. Just do it. She stops and sits on her hands. She wants to be in control. Quinn's fingers circle my clit and now I see why she gave me such stiff competition. I moan. It's Rachel's name that's on my lips. Quinn hears and hurries the pace of her hand. I laugh and Quinn hisses. I look at Rachel again and she's on her feet pushing me away from Quinn. I feel horny and unfulfilled from the loss of contact. Quinn slaps Rachel. It's the second time in life Quinn has ever done this. Rachel, this time, deserves it.

"Are we even now? I played your stupid game! All of your stupid, stupid games and I don't care if you keep winning at them! I love you! I want you and only you and will do whatever you want. Tell me what you want!" Quinn starts to cry and Rachel kisses her tears away fervently and cradles Quinn in her arms.

"I want you to challenge me again, Quinn. I want you to be the woman that never backed down from me. I love that about you. Stop agreeing with everything I want. I'm a brat, you know that. Brats need discipline. We need to be scolded once in a while. Don't mother me, just be my equal again." Quinn cries and nods into her wife's shoulder. The two of them fit. They have always fit. I don't.

"Effy," I hear Quinn whisper. Rachel lets go slightly of her wife and the two of them look at me with puppy dog eyes. I don't need that.

"I'll be out for a while. Give you two some privacy."

"No," Quinn says and Rachel looks at her in surprise. Quinn has a determined look on her face and it's almost like they are having a telepathic conversation. I would love to know what they're saying. It becomes clear when Rachel smiles at her wife and Quinn does the same. "Will you stay?" They're serious. Straight laced Rachel Berry and stick up her ass Quinn Fabray.

"I'm not a toy, you know," I say. I'm not a teenager anymore. I don't swing just because anymore.

"We know you're not," Rachel says and she extends her hand for me to take. I think about what this means. I don't think about what this means. I see Rachel look raw, vulnerable and epic. I've never painted her like that. I see Quinn look strong, confident and unafraid of her future. I've never seen Barbie like that. I walk to the two of them and the two put their arms around me. They kiss one another. Rachel then kisses me. Quinn follows after Rachel. I break away for breath. I tell Rachel to lie down. She complies and Barbie and I look at her, ravenous with want. Barbie and I get on either side of Rachel. Quinn kisses her gently on the mouth while I head south. I pull up the hem of Rachel's dress and can smell her. It's heaven. I pull down her panties and slowly lick the object of my obsession. It is sweeter than I cold have ever hoped. Rachel moans into Quinn's mouth and Quinn's fingers are in my hair, encouraging my oral fixation. I don't need encouragement. Rachel is panting now and saying 'right there'. Rachel alternates between saying my name and Quinn's. Quinn pulls Rachel's dress over her head. Rachel unclasps Quinn's bra and laps at her breasts. Quinn gasps and Rachel clutches my head in her hands, pushing me into her folds. I speed up my licks, making them percussive and she is so wet I might drown.

"Fuck me. The two of you. Fuck me," Rachel moans and she is so close. Quinn muffles Rachel's moans with her mouth and I feel Rachel writhe so far up off the bed she is riding her ecstasy. She has come. Mission accomplished. I lift my head and look at a panting Rachel. Quinn has hickeys on her chest. Rachel's juices still coat my lips.

"Want to taste your wife?" I ask Quinn. She nods eagerly and I kiss Quinn. We both moan and Rachel watches us in a sleep haze. She doesn't have the energy. She reaches her arms up for both of us. We lay against her as she cries. I smooth her hair while Quinn assures her that everything will be okay. We are here for her. We love her. We always have.


End file.
